The word “Luddite” has unfairly pejorative connotations in the modern age. In the early 19th century, English textile workers saw where their industry was heading with the introduction of technology, and recognised the imminent destruction of their livelihoods. So, in response, the workers would protest the new factories, and famously, destroy the rival machines.

It was hopeless. Such protesters were shot by the factory owners, and eventually the British army was used to suppress their wider movement. And, inevitably, machines became the primary way to create textiles, as is still the case today. The Luddites were not—as they are so often parodied—afraid to embrace modern technology. Instead, they were simply aware that it would starve their families. They were trying to defend their livelihoods, protect their loved ones, and responded with physical violence against capitalist violence.

This is all to say, I entirely get why artists are so furious about AI art creation. This new technology has the real potential to—at the very least—carve into a craft that has existed for thousands of years. If a book cover or movie poster or piece of background art can be created by typing a sentence into a website, then of course artists who’ve trained their whole lives to be masters of their craft are going to lose work. It must be terrifying, not least with the speed with which such extraordinarily powerful AI has appeared in the last year. I hate that very rich corporations, that absolutely could and should be compensating those from which they are gaining, are not.

I’m also aware that if AI can start doing as good a job as, or even better than, conventional artists, then it will win. Because every example of technology replacing artisan skill in the last few hundred years has ended that way. The protesting, the fury, and the sense of unfairness, will have no bearing on anything, and the computers will win out. This isn’t pessimism, and nor is it “giving up”; it’s just simply understanding reality.

I don’t have a solution, because I don’t think there is one. Much as the Luddites hopelessly smashed apart that which would replace them, it’s completely understandable that current artists wish to find a way to smash apart this latest technology. However, it’s even more futile a task in the digital age, and attempting to find methods to do so is going to be very ugly, and very self-defeating.

This is already demonstrably the case in the current main messaging against AI art: It is, we’re endlessly told, “theft.” As someone who has been a loud voice for the last twenty years within the (mostly hopeless) movement to prevent corporations from tricking the wider public into thinking that copying is theft, this couldn’t be a more demoralising position to see taken by the creatives themselves. Copying isn’t theft, it never has been, and it never can be. This isn’t a moral argument in favour of copying, it’s a factual argument about what words mean. Theft requires the original item to no longer be in the original owner’s possession, and no matter how many knots people try to tie themselves in, that can never, ever be applied to copying. Indeed, you wouldn’t steal a car. But you’d sure as hell download one. Call it bad, fight against it, but don’t call it something it isn’t.

It’s genuinely bewildering to have lived through the Napster years, when suddenly the world realized that music had at last been freed from its one-hundred-year-long plastic prison (and during which time official album sales spiked worldwide, and record labels never made more money, until they had Napster shut down and sales started falling again), where people were threatened by corporate goons out of their life savings because their grandkid downloaded a Sum 41 album, to then see the creators of art attempting to use “theft” as their attack against corporate AI.

Copying may be something you’re against! You may wish to legislate against copying. Rather famously, there’s that whole “copyright” system, that itself has been brutally twisted into a weapon of oppression rather than a tool of freedom. But it isn’t theft, it isn’t “stealing,” and I am aghast at the decades-long backward step at seeing this being wheeled out by the “goodies,” in an attempt to fight the “baddie” corporations.

Should artists be compensated for their creations? Of course, if their creations are desired. I am a passionate believer in the patron system, where artistic work is paid for at the point of creation, and I believe that credit should always be given to those who have created something. I also passionately believe in sharing, and am vehemently against systems where a creator is paid in perpetuity for work completed years previously. I don’t feel beholden to the estate of Monet or to whichever current painter if I fancy printing off one of their paintings, any more than I think I should pay the plumber who fixed my tap every time I use the sink. I get paid for my time when writing articles about games, not whenever anyone reads them in five years’ time. (And should a time come when AI can usefully critique artistic creations like games, then yes, I’ll be screwed too.)

Yes, AI systems are fed with potentially millions of pieces of art, from which its code learns the patterns, systems, techniques, styles, and then attempts to reconfigure them into something original. And yes, they are mostly doing this with no permissions from the creators of the pieces of art that go in. But here’s the bad news: that was just a very accurate description of all of art ever.

No artist creates art in a vacuum. Since the first cave person scrawled in mushed up flowers on a cave wall, all art has been formed based on what has come before. All artists, since the beginning of recorded history, have learned art by copying other art. None needed to ask for permission—hell, for a good period of history, they were actively encouraged by the original artists. The most famous artists you know, especially those known for pioneering new movements, began by learning the patterns, systems, techniques and styles of those who came before, and then attempted to reconfigure them into something original. Picasso was one hell of a realistic portrait artist, as taught by his father, before he ever explored Cubism.

Computers didn’t think up AI art generation on their own. It was programmed by people, whether for good or evil. This isn’t a robot takeover—it’s new man-made technology doing as good a job as human creators. And as soon as we started “feeding AI a thousand…” of whatever, to see what it would generate, this became inevitable. You can hate it, and you can hate the corporations that have been quick to take advantage of it, but trying to redefine it as something more evil than the printing press or the self-scanning cashier machine in the grocery store is folly.

(I want to clarify something here, that I fear would otherwise be misunderstood: I am not advocating for people to directly use an artist’s previous creations for their own financial gain. I believe, obviously, an artist should be compensated in such a circumstance, unless that creation has been graciously released under a copyleft license that allows such use. However, I do believe that any piece of art is a legitimate source for inspiration, and being inspired by any piece of art when creating one’s own, even for financial gain, is clearly legitimate, given—again—all of history.)

In the latest of Luke’s passionate tirades against this technology on Kotaku, he firmly states “machines don’t make art. They’re machines!” This is, in my opinion, utterly wrong. Because as anyone who’s had to suffer through any interminable “are computer games art?” article will know, art is in the eye of the viewer. I’ve typed in sentences to AI art creation software that has produced images that are utterly beautiful. Of course it’s art, no matter how much I might not like that the tool that created it is owned by a corporation that sees no desire to compensate those from which it has gained.

I think there’s a very uncomfortable uncanny feeling about AI art, but I think it’s because it is art. There’s a piece of soul in it, but it’s not earned. It’s likely the scraps of soul that survive the mechanical processing of what’s been fed in. That’s existentially unsettling.

I hate it a bit, too. I mean, I can draw to some degree. I’ve been paid to draw silly cartoons for things over the years. I’ve sold them on greetings cards. Now, you can create something just about the same by asking Dall-E for a “cartoon of a rabbit in a medieval helmet.” Mine’s on the left, Dall-E’s is on the right:

Like all other artisan crafts where technology has allowed the mass production of very similar creations, I know that we will see AI creations replace a large amount of what would have been commissioned to artists. I also hope that many will recognize the worth of commissioning a person to use their skills to create something utterly bespoke, specifically for your needs.

I’m also aware that I can’t wait for AI to replace the current gouging of corporations like Getty and Shutterstock, who try to charge hundreds or thousands of dollars for copying an infinitely duplicable jpeg. Sure, they’ll all try to figure out how they can monetise it for a bit, before such technology escapes their confines, but it won’t last long.

Yes, many will be utterly furious with me for writing any of this, no matter how clear I make it that I would prefer for artists to be compensated, and for original work to be commissioned. But I won’t allow myself to deny two core truths, no matter how little I might like them: Technology always successfully replaces the mass production of artisan craft, and fighting to prevent it is a depressingly futile act that hurts the creators whose livelihoods are being threatened. As awful as any of this might be, it doesn’t change reality.

Artists and creators should not be fighting this with the language of greedy corporations, with attempts to wield corrupt systems like “copyright” and “intellectual property,” making ridiculous claims of “stealing,” but instead by proudly standing up and showing why what they create is special. Artists should boast of their talent, loudly display their work, seek patronage, and work together to create systems that better put themselves in front of people.

You—you—should respond to this by being diligent in your beliefs. Fund artists. Find their Patreons and sign up. Scream at sites like ArtStation until they add a button that lets you financially support artists you admire. Pay for art you care about. That’s a damn site more effective than screaming in fury at technology for existing. It’s going to win. You can’t smash it up, and the people who own it have the bigger guns.

In our 275rd ever Rum Doings, our topic is: should we just lock up all the tennis players?

To mark the momentous occasion of our 275nd episode, we don’t mention it at all, but instead focus on the fact we both have colds, that Star Trek remains terrible, and goodness knows what else look give me a break it’s over ten minutes since we recorded it how on earth am I supposed to know what we said.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here. Maybe? Do any of these links still work? Does anyone listen? Do we even exist any more?

In our 274st ever Rum Doings, our topic is: who will remember to put the ISTMA back into CHRISTMAS?

For the third week in a row, this is a double-length bumper episode. We cover all the events of the previous week, from having a cold to having a cancer, the oddity of billionaires, the cancellation of ourselves, and why all children’s authors are MONSTERS.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here. Maybe? Do any of these links still work? Does anyone listen? Do we even exist any more?

In our 273st ever Rum Doings, our topic is: what if Megan Markle’s baby isn’t black enough?

For the second week in a row, this is a double-length bumper episode. We cover all the events of the previous week, from racist royals to the uselessness of John Oliver, vaccine conspiracies to Biden’s fails.

This episode is a tribute to our friend and the listener, Graeme Payne, who died last week.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here. Maybe? Do any of these links still work? Does anyone listen?

In our 271rd ever Rum Doings, our topic is: whatever happened too all the white dog poo? (reprise)

Obviously we talk about the current happenings, from the perspective of John’s all-consuming anxiety misery, and Nick’s similarly pathological upbeat view. But there are other subjects too, such as John’s new attempt to start running, and the inevitable demise of Facebook.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here.

He’s right. So I’m going to do that. I’m going to share the techniques I use to cope with my anxiety disorder, at a time when an awful lot of extra people have been temporarily drafted onto our team.

To quickly explain terms, with “Generalised Anxiety Disorder” (GAD) one’s fear is irrational. There is just fear, independent of anything, boiling and churning inside. It then tries to find something to be about. So for those who live with GAD, attaching that fear to something tangible can often be the worst thing to do. I think of it as a mad, cruel octopus living inside me, its arms reaching out to grab whatever it can, then focusing all of its efforts on that thing until I believe that that it is what I’m scared of, that it – whatever it is – is a source of enormous danger/guilt/fear. For me, detaching the octopus’s arm is a crucial part of the process, but many of the means to do so are those anyone could employ to cope when there’s a genuine source of fear out there.

So here is my list of Things I Do To Cope With Being Scared All The Time:

1. Distraction

This is the most immediately useful one for me. I imagine other lists might put “exercise” or “healthy diet” at the top, and those are excellent things that will definitely help, but they’re always top because they look worthy. Distractions don’t feel worthy. They feel self-indulgent. And guess what! They are! Hooray! Because being self-indulgent – just a little bit, and not to the detriment of others – is crucial. I, as the unofficial President Of The Universe, give you permission to be a little bit self-indulgent.

I’m not being flippant. Doing this affords you the mental space you need to be OK. And for all the reasons you might feel guilty for giving yourself that space, you need that space! To help others, to look after your family, to get through work, you need to give your brain the mental medicine it needs.

You know what you like doing. So do it. Make time for it. If you need others’ help to make time for it, ask for it. Say, “I need time to distract my mind,” and they will completely understand. You can do the same for them later.

For me, my ideal distractions are puzzle games and podcasts. At the same time. The two occupy two different bits of my brain, allowing me to minimise the amount of brain left over for worrying. I play a difficult puzzle game on my phone (I recommend anything by Conceptis) while listening to podcasts or radio programmes. My ideal listening right now is serial dramas and 1960s comedies on Radio 4 Extra, but I might switch to bright and breezy novels on Audible, or mainline a fiction podcast with squillions of episodes.

The other new addition to my arsenal of distractions is Nanoblocks! I just found them on Amazon. They’re Lego, but for ants. The result is, you can pick up 2000-piece builds for under £20, that would cost £470 million in full-size Lego. They take just as long to build (well, longer, given how much poorer the instructions are). It’s just the result fits on your palm. I’ve bought a bunch of these, and am picking away at them in front of the TV in the evening after the boy’s in bed, watching bright, silly TV shows with my wife.

Yours might be gardening while listening to classical music. Or learning a new piece on the keyboard. Or reading a novel with glitch hop blasting in the background. Or dance. Or sing. Or draw. Or whatever it is. You know what it could be.

It’s just important that these are doing things. Curling up, lying in bed, giving your brain empty space and time to worry in, is what you’re avoiding here.

2. Help Others

There’s a corollary to the above. Too much time. Loneliness. You may cry, “But making time for myself is the last thing I need to do! All I have is time for myself.” Looking outward is essential too.

Fear makes us want to curl into a tiny ball. So fight that. Stretch out, reach out. That’s my new slogan. T-shirts available in the lobby.

There are so many ways to do this. Some of them are so obvious, so often repeated, that it’s kind of hard to hear them enough to realise you can do them. Like go put notes through the doors of elderly or restricted neighbours, asking if they need help with anything. Maybe they need food delivered, or the rubbish taken out, or just a phone number they can call to talk. (And offer what you can do – I couldn’t do the latter at all. My phone ringing is one of the worst things that ever happens – the idea of deliberately causing it… brrrrrrrrr.)

Text your friends and ask if there’s anything they need. I have a friend sending me stupid videos every now and then because he asked if he could help, and I thought that would be great. It is! Do that for someone. Honestly, receiving a buzz on my phone that doesn’t have the c-word in it is such a blessing.

Also, people are organising. In my small town, a Facebook group has been set up in association with the town council, appointing volunteers to team lead on each street, organising support networks for all who are going to need it. There’s bound to be something like that near you. And if there isn’t, you can start one.

Or you could write a far-too-long blog post about it, that waffles so much that you worry people won’t read it because of the length of the scrollbar, and then make it worse by writing this paragraph.

Focusing on what other people need is an incredibly effective way to not be thinking about your own fear.

3. Share Your Thoughts

Keeping your worries in your head is never the best plan. Saying them out loud to someone else is extraordinarily therapeutic. Heck, it is therapy.

Saying fears out loud has a number of effects. Firstly, you hear yourself saying them, and the truth or fiction of them immediately becomes more apparent. Daylight shines on them. Then having someone else hear them helps too. Especially if they laugh. No, really. Just being heard makes such a difference. And thirdly, for me it’s like mad-thought exorcism. I say it out loud, and at least a part of it comes out of me. It’s freeing.

Obviously use your sense. Don’t go find your friend with panic attacks and start telling them all your worst thoughts. But friends are there to be friends, and you can say, “Are you OK if I tell you what I’m worrying about?”

If friends aren’t available, there are just so many other options. The best, most available one is the Samaritans. They’re not just a suicide hotline, although they’re excellent for that. They’re there so anyone can talk to someone who’ll just listen. For students there’s Nightline. Also, here’s a complete list of UK helplines. Google the equivalents for you own country if you’re not in the UK.

4. Move About

See how cunningly I didn’t write “exercise”. Because I hate reading that. But then I’m a wobbly man who desperately needs to exercise. And honestly, I don’t even mean “go for a run”. I just mean, don’t stagnate.

Self-isolation obviously makes this tougher, but chances are you aren’t. And if you are, it’s just for two weeks. The rest of the time, you can go outside! You can go for a walk. Or a run. Or a saunter. Take headphones if you’re worried your brain is going to misbehave, fill your head with your preferred noise. Or perhaps you need a lack of noise, a time for your thoughts to float up into the sky, instead of having them bounce off the ceiling.

Being active really helps. I wish it didn’t. But it does.

5. Have A Routine (Have A Bedtime)

You’ll read this everywhere, because it’s really true. My biggest fear, my biggest trigger, is turmoil. Anything that breaks the normal pattern of my life. I find holidays really difficult for that exact reason. So the entire planet coming to a standstill and nothing being normal is really bloody awful. I imagine that’s not unique to those with GAD.

Routine makes such a massive difference. Knowing what you’re going to be doing tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that. And knowing what you’re going to do in the different bits of those days. You can actively plan this, draw up a wall chart if it helps. (I’d rather cut my own legs off.)

And then stick to that routine. Routine gives children comfort and stability, and those that live in chaotic houses where little is planned or scheduled tend to have a tougher time coping with emotions. We’re all just slightly taller children. Give yourself the magic of a bedtime. Seriously. Pick a time that means you’ll get enough sleep, and then go to bed then. And set an alarm to wake up at a set time too. You’ll be so glad you did.

6. Have Faith

I mean that literally. I’m not for a moment suggesting what in, because good grief. But experience faith, experience trust. Which may seem really odd in a list like this, but remember, this isn’t How To Survive The Thing; this is How My Coping Mechanisms Might Be Helpful To Others At The Moment. And this is a really key one for me.

I am not in any way writing this to try to evangelise or whatever, and would be mortified if anyone thought I were. I just know that my faith helps big-time with this, and that being part of a community of people whose core aim is to love others is a really big benefit too.

So maybe find details about your local temple or church or mosque. Obviously meeting together for faith groups is about to become extremely tricky, but I know that not being able to meet is causing a lot of them to start looking outward. So hooray!

7. This Too Shall Pass

I can’t emphasise this one (to me) enough. This will come to an end. There will be normal again.

It’s frustratingly far away, certainly. It’s months, not weeks. But it WILL end. Every day life will go back to normal. Pubs will be open, films will come out at the cinema, and people will buy toilet roll in sensible quantities.

There are absolutely going to be long-term consequences. Especially for those who lose anyone. And for those whose businesses suffer or close. None of this is dismissed by what I’m saying in any sense.

But what I take from this is the knowledge that this isn’t forever. Because we are not cats in cupboards.

As if I need to explain that. But just in case. Shut a cat in a cupboard (by mistake, you monster) and it will WAAAAIIIIIIIILLLLL. The cat doesn’t cry because it wants out. It cries because it thinks this is forever now. The rest of its kitty life is in this tiny dark space. With anxiety, I’m so prone to cat-in-a-cupboard thinking. However I feel right now, this is how I’ll feel forever. And that’s not true.

Even if there’s a tail of weirdness, normality will gradually resume. Hold on to that.

That’ll Do

Congratulations if you made it all the way through that. I hope some of it is helpful, or at least distracting.

The tl:dr is: Allow yourself time to take care of your own needs, and if you need others’ support to do that, ask for it. Then allow time to take care of others. Get a routine, let yourself be loved, and then impatiently await the normality that is coming.

You are great, you are tired, you deserve love.

In our 270rd ever Rum Doings, our topic is: going forward, can’t we just agree to disagree?

Ho ho ho dear. It’s our CHRISTMAS SPECIAL! Is it our Hanukkah special? Is Hanukkah special?

It does sound like we’re about to talk about politics again, but don’t worry, we divert. Instead we ponder why no one visits Prince Philly in hospital, the worstest of all Christmas songs, and complain about Poundland’s tills.

We then talk about forgiveness, which is uncharacteristically apposite for the season, then try to come up with some new Christmas traditions.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here.

In our 269nd ever Rum Doings, our topic is: should we amend the Great British constitution so that Andrew Neil be Queen during general election?

John has a CHRONIC SINUS CONDITION, and that’s obviously the big news of the week. So we talk nasal DOUCHING. He’s also just launched a new website about undiscovered indie games, but pah.

We also talk the awfulness of the election choices, as evidenced by the inevitable success of Mogg, about Judith’s appendectomy, steamed breakfasts, and the disastrous US healthcare system.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here.

In our 268rd ever Rum Doings, our topic is: should we be worried about TikTok?

Nick has a new kitten! It’s correct name is Maisy. This sadly doesn’t distract us from talking about the hopeless pit that is the UK general election. And then, with a great deal of sense and decorum, we discuss the ethnic demographics of the UK for the longest time.

Then, stepping into a subject about we’re even less expert, we talk evolution.

To get this episode directly, right click and save here. To subscribe to Rum Doings click here, or you can find it in iTunes here.