It Isn’t What It Is

Everywhere I go, people are shrugging and saying it is what it is. It’s the English equivalent of c’est la vie or che sera sera, a reluctant acceptance of the facts, a resignation to fate. A comforting platitude for these discomforting times. But right now, it feels like nothing is what it is.

Earlier this year, in the space of one week, I received an email from the company hosting my website, warning of scammers pretending to be professional website designers. Then an email offering to place fake ‘subtly handcrafted positive Goodreads reviews’ of my latest book - for a fee, of course. Then an email entitled ‘Writers Festival Invitation!’ from someone called Claudiuss Blacksmith - no message, just a dodgy box that Claudiuss really wanted me to click on.  

The following week, scrolling the socials, I watched twin toddlers apparently dancing a perfectly coordinated samba, then a man apparently hugging a lion in the wild, and then the US President apparently playing soccer in the Oval Office with Cristiano Ronaldo – all AI-generated deceptions.

On the evening news that same week there was a warning about food fraud, a ‘global multibillion dollar problem’. Seafood marketed as ‘caught in the Northern Territory’ was farmed in Asia. Packets sold as ‘Kakadu plum powder’ contained no traces of plum.

Did I mention the anxious call I took from an elderly relative whose neighbour had just saved him from being scammed by a company pretending to sell cheap solar panels? Now my relative is wondering if the bloke trying to sell him a bargain caravan antenna is for real. The world has become a frightening place for him, full of lies and liars.

You don’t have to be elderly to fall for this stuff. Last year I took a call from a phone scammer masquerading as a bank security representative, who persuaded me to transfer hundreds of dollars to him before I realised what was happening.

I would usually seek refuge from all this claptrap by reading a book, ideally a memoir. A true story written by a real person, something heartfelt and authentic. But the memoir I was planning to read next, a best-selling account of a middle-aged couple who go on a marathon hike together, has turned out to be full of omissions and exaggerations.

Listening to music offers little solace – who knows if the artist on my streaming service lives and breathes, or has been digitally generated, along with their songs?

Why does any of this matter? Why not tell myself it is what it is and get on with the day? Because without trust, we can’t feel safe in any human transaction – from ordering a pizza to catching an Uber, from online dating to election voting. And every day it feels like our trust - in business transactions, in personal and professional communications, in our creative producers and our elected politicians, in all the visual, textual and auditory information we’re consuming - is being eroded. Seeing is no longer believing.

Having to ask yourself at every turn is that true? is that real? is that safe? can generate suspicion exhaustion. And when you tire of having to be sceptical 24/7, you can drop your guard and abandon your critical faculties. When the warning bells become a painful cacophony, you might just switch them off, leaving yourself vulnerable to even more exploitation.

The extreme alternative – where, instead of dropping your guard, you become increasingly dubious and hypervigilant - can lead to paranoia. When trust feels impossible, fear and rage often replace it. We’ve recently seen shocking examples in this country of mistrust of authorities and ‘deep state’ paranoia leading to violence and murder.

And then there’s the shame. I’ve worked as a journalist for three and half decades – a profession which relies on scepticism – yet I still fell for the smooth phone voice telling me that transferring my bank savings to him would save me from an evil scammer currently accessing my account. Admitting my gullibility is painful.  

So what’s new? Surely there have always been snake-oil salesmen and lying politicians, spreaders of fake news and generators of optical illusions. Most of the time, in the end, they’re outed, and then either outlawed or voted out. Democratically elected governments usually try to protect their citizens from shysters with laws, regulations and enforcement. But there’s a vicious cycle underway, with democratic rights and freedoms eroding as authoritarian governments exploit our fear, rage and mistrust to assert more and more control over their anxious, bewildered citizens.

As Carl Sagan famously wrote, ‘If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We’re no longer interested in finding out the truth… Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back.’

Some are choosing social and technological withdrawal as a radical solution to this loss of trust. An acquaintance recently told me about their friend who refuses to engage with any digital technology – no banking apps, no online purchases, no digital newsfeeds. This brave refusenik grows her own food, barters for the things she needs but can’t grow, and limits her social interactions to old and trusted friends.

But for most of us this is not a realistic – or attractive – option. The lack of intellectual stimulation, social engagement and employment options would be a high price to pay for a sense of security. Besides, it wouldn’t necessarily guarantee our protection. My elderly relative (of the solar panel scam) has no digital skills or online involvement but was sucked in by a flyer in his letterbox. There are fibs and fibbers everywhere, and some days, extricating yourself from this swamp of misinformation feels impossible.

I have no miracle cure to offer. Paying attention to the ‘uncanny valley’ can sometimes help, that vague creepy feeling you get when something looks a bit ‘off’ – like the fake people in AI videos with repetitive and eventually predictable facial expressions. Reminding yourself that if an offer seems too good to be true, it probably is. The ‘stem cell therapy’ powder available online for just $99.99 probably won’t cure your dog’s cancer, and the politician promising to save $1.9 trillion dollars by ending climate-friendly policies probably just made that number up.

Being wary of AI-generated ‘information’ is vital. An acquaintance recently asked ChatGPT about my relationship history and was confidently informed I’d been married six times, often bigamously (in fact I’ve never been married). Journalistic research technique like relying on primary sources and cross-checking with secondary sources can help.  

And slowing down our interactions – in person and online – can allow time for more curiosity and wariness. Scammers and manipulators often rely on our impulsivity – ‘for a limited time only’ is a dangerous phrase. My bank scammer convinced me that if I paused to ask him more questions, the (fake) scammers would have taken All My Money!   

As a teacher of journalism, I’m always nagging my students: ‘When in doubt, check it out’. If warning bells are tinkling, however faintly, we’ve gotta prick up our ears.