January 2026

Over the past few days I’ve found myself mulling the question of whether AI will destroy art and literature. Initially, I found myself comforted by a thought, articulated by Carrie Jenkins on bluesky, that since the value of art lies not simply in the product but in the process of its creation, art will survive intact. When I contemplate Van Gogh’s Starry Night, I’m not just considering a decontextualized pretty object such as an AI might produce, but something that results from human intention, contemplation and struggle and which flows from a life and its roots. So far, so good.

I was moved to think of Marx’s contrast in The Results of the Immediate Process of Production between Milton, who “produced Paradise Lost as a silkworm produces silk, as the activation of his own nature” and “the literary proletarian of Leipzig who produces books, such as compendia on political economy”. (See Capital vol 1, Penguin edition, p. 1044). The literary proletarian may be threatened by AIs, which can churn out such compendia, or perhaps boilerplate romantic fiction, but a Milton is not. But on further reflection, I think this is a mistake. Not that “Miltons” will entirely disappear but they will be oddities, isolates, like Sabato Rodia who built the Watts Towers.

The thing is, people do value products for their instrisic characteristics, divorced from the histories of the creation and creators. When people go to IKEA to buy a nice lamp or a rug, they are mostly indifferent to who has produced it: they want something that looks good, is affordable, and works. And AI can produce this, thereby depriving thousands of equivalents of the “literary proletarian” of their livelihoods. Sure, a few people might pay a premium for an Anni Albers-designed rug (and more for an original), but most will settle to adorn their home with an AI-produced knock-off at a fraction of the price.

The trouble is, that the elimination of the literary proletarians doesn’t simply leave the Miltons standing, unscathed. Mostly, art does not just emerge from a random genius popping up and producing great works but from a milieu which provides a context and an infrastructure. A network of other producers but also critics, dealers, suppliers, teachers. I believe Howard Becker writes about this in his book Art Works, but though it is on my to-read shelf, I have not yet done so. Some of those people produce output that is “art”, but since “art” is a prestige category, many others produce work that fails to rise to that level but which is merely decorative or entertaining. Many of them will have been trained in art schools or universities but have failed to make it as artists, but without them those schools will become unviable. In short, withouth the wider group of near-misses and engaged supporters it is hard to see where many artists will come from: thanks to AI they will lack a sea in which to hatch and then swim.

To all of you – a healthy, flourishing, and meaningful 2026!

To the world – I am less sure where to begin, since 2025 was, politically and morally speaking, one of the worst years since long. Let’s hope for peace, definitely. Responsible leaders with sound morals. Positive tipping points in climate action. A decline of all that crypto/post/neo/full-blown fascist crap that spread like a virus in 2025 (and before – but it seems to have accelerated in 2025). And therefore, I hope that many more people will become more like (a good chunk of) the commentariat of this blog – progressive, politically well-informed, and also asking perhaps the most urgent question at this point in history: what should we do? And what does the answer to that question imply for what I should do?

More and more of my friends are explicitly asking that question, but we are often unsure of the answer. Although I have some thoughts (in fact, I’m hoping to write a book on it), it is not self-evident. But it helps to not think about this question by oneself, but to raise and discuss it with friends, in organisations, and online. And if the answers seem overwhelming, I find that a one-hour walk with a dear person in the fields and the woods does wonders.

Also – I’m glad you are still reading us (and joining the discussions) after all these years, thanks.