Reading Alexander Hurst’s column on the frictionless experience of life promised – or threatened – by AI algorithms, I was struck by how little I recognised the picture he painted of daily experience being stripped of the friction necessary to furnish it with meaning (To be human is to live with friction. That’s something AI boosters will never understand, 23 April). Rather, isn’t it the case that, bar the mega-rich, we’re all suffering from an excess of friction due to rising living costs, an avoidably dilapidated public realm, poor housing and innumerable related stresses?
I belong to a volunteer group that twice a week cooks hot meals for homeless and destitute people in central Liverpool. The hot meal they collect from us may be the only relief they get that day from the constant, grinding analogue hassles of invisibility, illness, disrespect and material poverty: the only recognition they receive that a degree of comfort is a prerequisite for survival. The specific depredations of AI, created and encouraged by men without souls, seem so distant in these cases as to be nonexistent.
