Hmmm something I’ve been mulling over is that possibly people defend AI art for the sake of “people who want to draw but can’t now have an outlet!” because they consider writing to be a lesser form of art.

I can’t draw. I will never be able to draw. The way my mind barely comprehends shape and size and geometry connecting to my limbs, it doesn’t translate. But what does work is the written word. When I couldn’t even draw a stick figure, I would write up a paragraph describing one.

Writing is extraordinary easily, just open any typing tool and go for it. Any idea you have, you can do it. If you have trouble, writing advice is always there just as art advice is. Prompt blogs exist if you’re stuck. And then there could thousands of others on a single prompt post commenting ideas to flesh it out and you can just yoink those. Writing takes practice, just as art does, but it’s considerably easier to start writing than to start drawing. Especially since the thing is, people want to draw super well right away but get discouraged. Writing is a lot less frustrating for beginners, and a lot more fulfilling.

But…a 3 page short story or a 4-stanza poem aren’t as flashy as a giant illustration with a rainbow of colors with their favorite characters or animals or whatever. It’s just “words.” Who cares about that? It’s not as cool or impressive, it takes longer to digest words than to stare at an art piece (I’m not really giving AI art any grand meaning…the deepest they go is shitty political propaganda). And they want to make these giant art pieces with no effort, no work because they can’t or won’t bother to pick up the skills themselves. They want the product with none of the work, and they’ll delude themselves into feeling the same sense of accomplishment when all they did it type in a few keywords and hit a button.

Which goes to show how much they truly disregard literature when they also use AI to generate writing for them. Even typing words is too much, or it’s not cool enough for them to give much of a shit anyways.

So the NYT newsletter lineup has been unveiled. I suppose the expectation is that I would make fun of this but I’m not moved to do so. Whatever else its problems, and I’m about to lay them out here, the Times does not suffer from a talent deficit. I don’t know what this is all going to look like in practice, or what the financial inducements are for the writers. But I’ll read several of these with interest and I’m excited to see what comes from the experiment. Let writers write. I imagine the Times has some extremely complicated and arbitrary rules about original reporting appearing in these newsletters; I’m told there are a lot of turf issues over there on 8th Avenue. But that’s not my concern. I’m in favor of giving people freer rein to explore their interests in writing, and from my vantage it seems like this setup could result in a lot of cool stuff. I for sure will read Jane Coaston and Jay Kang. I for sure will not read Frank Bruni. For the rest, we shall see.

Of course, what none of these people will do is what no one at the Times can do: publish things that upset the subscriber base. And it’s precisely the willingness to do so that has powered the financial success of newsletters like this one.

If you’re new around here, the basic scenario is that we’ve had a years-long moral panic in which elite white tastemakers adopted the political posture of radical Black academics out of purely competitive social impulses, trying on a ready-made political eschatology that blames the worlds ills on whiteness and men and yet somehow leaves space for an army of good white people and good men to cluck their tongue about it all. Concurrently, the most influential paper in the world emerged from decades of fiscal instability by going hard on digital subscriptions, paywalling more and more of its content and rattling its tin cup more loudly than ever before. The result has been boom times, attenuated only by the end of the immensely lucrative Trump years. (I believe Chris Hayes is covering Trump’s latest spray tan tonight.) The trouble is that this model leaves them even more dependent on a particular social and political caste, namely the educated white professional class that graduates from top 25 universities, moves to Echo Park or Andersonville or Austin, then sends Zane and Daschel to pre-K that costs more than their Audi. Oh and they, like, care about justice and stuff. Conservatives hate read the NYT and thus have traditionally brought in advertising revenue, but they don’t hate subscribe, and the end result is that a paper that was about a 6.5 on a ten-point Liberal Elite Scale when I was a kid has moved to a 9.5. And there’s nothing internal to the publication that can stop this leftward march.

This will invite reprisals for speaking out of turn, but all of the following comes from public knowledge, other people’s reporting, what former and current employees have said, and a little bit of gossip. The social and professional culture within The New York Times is notoriously toxic, the confluence of people with immense career ambitions and total shamelessness about using social justice rhetoric to attack their enemies; watercooler shit-talking and mean-girling has moved to Slack, where it’s somehow even worse than it was before; all of the younger staffers see their jobs as straightforwardly activist positions, and the role of the paper to advance a pro-Democrat social justice ideology rather than to report objectively or to present a range of viewpoints; executive editor Dean Baquet is afraid of his own employees; the Sulzbergers don’t want to have uncomfortable conversations with their fellow white liberal elites at the food co-op or whatever; and in general absolutely every internal incentive within the paper points towards uncritically advancing a Robin Diangelo-approved race and gender ideology, a class-never, deferential-to-woke-norms soggy social justice politics that says nothing remotely challenging to said staffer cliques or the Hermosa Beach soccer moms who now fund the paper. When Bari Weiss resigned the media Borg represented it as all about Weiss, but her story was really about the kind of perspective that can’t exist anymore at The New York Times. I’m sure the blob would deny this stuff, but again none of these are well-kept secrets. If Ben Smith was not paid by the New York Times he would have reported this out long ago.

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You can talk about Bari Weiss, you can talk about the Cotton brouhaha, you can discuss the inherent and ugly incentives of the subscription model for the paper. But the Donald McNeil firing is truly the bellwether. A reporter with 45 years of NYT experience on an absolutely essential beat said something clueless but utterly anodyne to some spoiled adolescents on a trip that 99% of people their age can’t access. Despite the fact that what he said would have been totally unremarkable even in liberal circles five years ago, the situation caught the staff’s attention and its ire and they vented that ire with the typical absurdist claim that McNeil had put them “in danger” in some incredibly vague way. (On Twitter, of course). So McNeil was duly dispatched, and the basic power dynamic of the modern day New York Times was laid bare: a handful of the paper’s untouchable celebrities can kick up the junior staff into a frenzy, and once that catches fire on Twitter, there is no one in the paper’s leadership who has the honesty and integrity to tell them no. No one. (The NYT’s self-exonerating reaction to McNeil’s defense is quietly hilarious.) The simple fact of the matter is that Baquet has not demonstrated anything like the public courage it would take to face down a Twitter storm prompted by Nikole Hannah-Jones et al., and there’s no reason to think that that’s going to change anytime soon. The media types would reject all of this, if anyone at a big-shot publication had the integrity to write a story about these open secrets. But I’m not lying.

What annoys me about resistance to this narrative, from within the NYT or the media writ large, is that sometimes they admit that the point now is to advance social justice, which is to say to support a specific ideological project associated with one party. Wesley Lowery’s “moral clarity” piece remains a remarkably frank confession on the part of the Times that they have accepted what’s been obvious for a long time, that even they don’t believe in their own vestigial gestures towards evenhandedness anymore, that it’s all a naked pretense to please the last lingering greyhairs involved with the organization and that in due time they’ll be no less explicitly Democrat-aligned than DailyKos. (I think of David Brooks and Tom Friedman at the Times like children whose parents have handed them Xbox controllers that aren’t plugged in.) Watching the establishment media accept the fundamental claim of Lowery’s piece, that elite journalists possess such enormous moral wisdom that they have transcended the notions of subjectivity and embedded perspective, has been pretty wild, for the inconsistency if nothing else. They step from “of course the MSM hasn’t adopted full-throated social liberalism en masse, that’s absurd” to “yes we’re telling the truth now and that’s good and righteous” as rhetorically convenient.

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In the broader perspective, what incentives are left for careers in media? The fast-then-slow-then-fast internet-enabled collapse of the industry’s financial foundations appears to be experiencing another fast phase. Everybody in the industry is aware that there’s some 22-year-old in the wings who will do what they’re doing for half price. (Those 22-year-olds are rich enough or stupid enough not to care that they will in short order be the one getting undercut themselves.) Covid killed whatever lingering cool NYC media social scene remained. Perceptions of prestige are subjective, but by my lights the indignities of the click-chasing era and pathetic Trump-humping of the past five years have erased whatever lingering prestige was left in writing for, say, The Washington Post. Along with The New Yorker, writing for the Times is one of the last privileges in the business that really walks the dog in the impress-your-normie-uncle sense - and, more importantly, provides clear benefits in the ancillary fields where affluent writers actually make their money. To get to that stage, you have to be liked by the right people. Every industry is influenced by petty popularity, but it’s particularly acute in the news business, and now bullshit me-first social justice complaints have been weaponized to enforce that popularity hierarchy.

This all leaves us in a place that’s utterly inhospitable to the noblest urge in any profession, which is to tell the profession and its gurus to go fuck themselves.

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The only thing I can do, at this point, is appeal to the integrity of the individuals within that world. They aren’t bad people, most of them, they’re just afraid, financially precarious and terrified of being called racist in an industry which has busily drained professional success of any prerequisite other than popularity with one’s peers. You can understand a lot about media culture by understanding that most of the people within it feel like they’re barely hanging on. Well, let me put it to you all privately, here in this space away from Twitter and away from Slack, where it’s just you and me: was this really what you wanted to do, when you set out to make this your profession? To tell Bradley Whitford’s character from Get Out that he’s right about everything? To nod along with a conventional wisdom that you’re too scared to step outside of? I doubt that’s what you once dreamed of doing. The most valuable thing you can do with a prominent place in media, right now, is to point out how sick the whole business is. It’s only integrity when it hurts, guys. Something you write is only brave when it pisses off all your friends and colleagues. Why on earth did you get into journalism, instead of becoming an actuary, if not because you wanted to say the things your profession and your peers and your culture absolutely do not want you to say?