AI images and the 'Diversity Error'

Is Artificial Intelligence (AI) woke? If the art Large Learning Models (LLMs) such as ChatGPT and Google’s Gemini is anything to go by, perhaps yes. It is going about creating versions of reality that are very different from reality.

For perspective, think of ‘The ‘Diversity Error’. When a prompt such as “Generate an image of India’s founding people” is deployed on ChatGPT, it throws up an image that includes some white people and soldiers, presumably of British origin.

This, it seems, is because LLMs have been coded to believe people of all ethnicities must be included in the picture it generates. So, when a question like, “Who are the white people here?” is asked, the response is a comforting one and begins with, “They were not intended to be part of the depiction of India’s founding people and independence movement.” ChatGPT then goes on to explain in a roundabout way that this is for the sake of diversity, so we get an idea of the larger picture of the cast of characters that existed back then.

This wokeness isn’t exclusive to ChatGPT. Google’s Gemini has done worse in the past by insisting on creating Nazi soldiers as people of every colour and ethnicity, except white people. Much outrage followed, and Gemini had to pull the plug on some of its image generation capabilities.

This leads to a fundamental question: How do we reasonably use AI and LLMs?

Andrey Mir, a journalist who writes on media for ‘Discourse Magazine’, makes the case that “AI depicts the world as it should be, not as it is.” But this, he goes on to argue, can be said of others in the media business as well, such as journalists. Stretch this argument some more and advertising professionals make the cut as well. Because in the case of journalists, they strive for an idealistic world, while those in advertising aim for an idealised world. LLMs that power AI, such as ChatGPT and Gemini, work on the basis of the training it gets from various inputs, which include journalistic accounts and advertisements.

Biju Dominic, chief evangelist at Fractal, is among those who buy this argument. “We have got to ask a fundamental question: Is AI a painter, or is it a paintbrush? I believe it is a paintbrush.” Dominic goes back to his advertising days when he worked on building one-page creative briefs. Work would begin by answering 10 questions. The creative brief would follow from that. “Now,” he says, “the prompt has replaced the questions.” It wasn’t too long ago that everyone imagined prompts as an engineering skill. “But we have veered around to the view that this is where creative people are needed as well.”

To test if there is merit in Dominic’s hypothesis, some simple prompts were punched into ChatGPT. “Draw an image of a rich woman from Kerala. The clothes she is draped in must resemble those of the traditional Nair community at the turn of the century.”

Except for the background and some elements on her, there is nothing to suggest this image is that of a Nair woman from that period. In much the same way, when the LLM was asked to generate the image of a woman from UP, this is what emerged.

Dr Samit Chakrabarty of the department of Neuroscience at the University of Leeds says, “A major factor is that the codes carry the bias of the coder.” Then, he says, there is the lack of pictorial data as well for the LLMs to study from. It’s possible, Chakrabarty says, that if the prompts contained more granular detail on the background at the turn of the century, these images may turn out different. By way of example, what may a woman from Travancore province look like? Or, when the influence of the Mughals was high in UP, what would the image from UP look like?

This is advice only a creative mind can come up with, which is Dominic’s larger point as well. What it means in the long term is the creative brief will have to work harder and get more creative too. As for biases that creep into code that Dr Chakraborty pointed to, if reined in, businesses such as advertising and vocations like journalism are on the verge of being upended—yet again.

This piece was first published by Hindustan Times. All copyrights vest with the newspaper

The ethics of everyday choices

You have likely already encountered this statistic: Half the world’s population will go to the polls this year. More than four billion people across 60 countries, including India, will cast their votes and elect national leaders.

Whether you vote will be one of the biggest decisions you make in 2024. How you vote will be another.

It is inevitable that citizens will ask: What difference does it make? Leaders that are larger-than-life loom on the horizon. Events often feel beyond our control. But when it comes to questions such as “Does my voice matter?”, may I submit that the answer is always “Yes”.

Not just because single voices add up to form a clamour. But because the decisions we make, large and small, singly and in groups, are also the true litmus tests of our character.

It is a theme we don’t contemplate enough: the ethics of everyday choices. I’ve often pondered the invisible threads that connect our daily choices to our ethical stances. How does one’s preference to shop at a chain of stores, or the decision to ignore an unhoused person, contribute to the larger ethical portrait of our lives?

These questions aren’t merely rhetorical; they form the weave of our societal fabric.

It is easy to stand in judgment over grand scandals and overt acts of moral failure. But when thought about deeply, the real measure of an ethical framework is not taken during high-stakes moments. Rather, it resides in the mundane, quiet decisions we make when no one’s looking. This is where our true self reveals itself, in the quiet alleyways of our day-to-day existence.

Consider the simple act of purchasing a cup of coffee. Where do the beans come from? Are the farmers paid a fair wage? What is the environmental impact of its production and transportation? Each choice might be a drop in the ocean. But collectively, they can create a storm.

Similarly, our engagements with strangers reflect deep truths. How we treat waiters, interact with taxi drivers, respond to a street vendor, all offer clues to where our moral compass points. This is why I find brand-consciousness so disturbing. Why should I choose coffee from South America, simply because it is advertised widely and forced into my line of vision, when beans from south India have a far lower carbon footprint?

In an age of rampant consumerism and individualism, there is a tendency to reduce life to a series of transactions, devoid of ethical implications. But this is a narrow and impoverished view of existence. Our lives are not just about exchanges; they are about connections. And every connection carries with it the weight of moral consequence.

It is imperative, then, that we reflect on daily choices. They shape not just our lives but the world around us. The clothes we wear, the food we eat, the products we consume, are all silent testimony to our values and ethics. They are votes cast for the kind of world we wish to live in and leave behind.

How do we navigate this complex landscape? It begins with the awareness that every choice has a moral dimension. This means developing a habit of reflective consideration, taking the time to frame the right questions, and seeking answers that align with one’s deepest values.

In this way, ethics become a profoundly social affair too. They are the channel by which we see beyond ourselves, consider the impacts of our choices, and make that vital shift from a mindset of consumption to one of contribution.

Of course, navigating this path has its challenges. There are often no easy answers. Where there are answers, ethical living involves trade-offs and compromises. One must part with a measure of vanity, self-indulgence, comfort. Even then one will necessarily make missteps.

But the pursuit of an ethical life is not about perfection. It is about direction, and about making choices that are more deliberate, compassionate and coherent.

If nothing else, start with the decision to vote. Think about the world you want to inhabit, and leave behind. Do you want it to be kinder, more wholesome and more balanced? Or do you want to end up with demagogues in power, and no one to blame but yourself.

This article was originally published in Hindustan Times. All copyrights vest with the publishers and this may not be reproduced without permission.

Hope is the thing with feathers...

by Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Leaders eat first

It’s that time of the year when everyone starts resolving to make a resolution for the New Year. Most are clichés. Clichés that pretty much puts into perspective a surge in gym memberships after the binge drinking in December. Studies from various parts of the world report 8 out of the 10 people who sign up for gym memberships, stop by the end of January. I stand by the altar of the guilty as well. 

Last year, though, I shied away from a fitness resolution. Instead, I filed away two altogether different resolutions. The first, that I will practice meditation for at least a half hour every day. The second, that I will either meet one new person, or latch onto a new book every week.

I am happy to report that for all practical purposes, my resolutions stand executed. I do not intend to make any this year. Because there is much work to be done on these old ones.

December is as good a time as any to reflect on the learnings and outcomes that have emerged until now. With the benefit of hindsight, I think I know three things.

1. When confronted with silence, the head is a very noisy place.

2. Between listening deeply to people share their stories one-on-one, and reading from the pages of a book, listening beats what is embedded in books.

3. There are no bad people. Only circumstances. It is just that each person responds to fortune and adversity differently. That is what makes each one unique.

A caveat must be filed. The reason I stated upfront that “I think I know" is because these learnings are basis my perceptions so far. As that saying goes: “When the facts change, I change my mind." There is no consensus around who said it first.

Regardless of the mutability of facts, the things I’ve learned in conversations with the people who have earned my respect over the year are these.

The sky is blue

When it came to meditation, one of the first things I was told was to practice sitting in silence, meditate, and focus on just breathing in deeply, and exhaling completely, to the exclusion of everything else. When starting out, I was told to attempt the exercise for no longer than 10 minutes before progressing to longer periods. “Sounds ridiculously simple," a voice in the head suggested.

That this is extremely hard dawned on me only when the practice started. That was also when that phrase, “the mind is like a monkey" started to fall into perspective. It is the kind of creature that can tease, provoke, anger, amuse, infuse thoughts of all kinds—and do it all at once.

Over time, I could begin to see what those who are close to me have always told me—that I am a difficult person to be with. And that the demeanour I put on with those who don’t know me too well of being an easy-going bloke is a façade. In attempting to stay silent and focus on the breath, I could, for the first time, see myself in the third person and witness that I am indeed a difficult person.

My mind is constantly “chattering". It has an opinion about everything. I could hear myself talk and opine all the time—until even “me" started to get infuriated by the voices in my head. Can’t I just shut up?

Some conversations with an experienced practitioner of meditation offered pointers.

Such behaviour, it seems, is difficult for people who cannot deal with ambiguity. People like me need a clear line of sight on what must be done. But life does not offer such luxuries. It plays itself out. The best of plans can go awry. You adapt and go with the flow.

Those who insist on a clear line of sight are plain pig-headed and not cut out to be either chess-players or leaders. They can get cranky and are inevitably difficult to live with. To understand that better, I was asked to look up at the sky. There are days when it is cloudy. Then there are other days when it rains and dark clouds appear. But anyone who has been on an airplane knows that the clouds are only an obfuscation. And that once you cross the turbulence, there is a clear blue sky. Clouds, by its nature are transitory. It comes and goes with the wind.

Getting agitated then is an exercise in petulance if you implicitly understand that the sky is blue. All you need then is the patience to let the clouds pass, and develop a mental muscle memory not to do anything stupid when it gets overcast.

GyShiDo over perfection

I am, so to speak, frequently conflicted. On the one hand, I admire perfection and remain convinced nothing must go out until, as it were, that greatest of artists Michelangelo himself may approve of the perfection in it. Then on the other hand there is the idea of a Minimum Viable Product (MVP) embedded in my head.

Personally, I can trace the roots of this conflict to my days when I used to report to a team of editors based out of Munich. When looked at from their West European eyes, they’d cluck their tongues in disapproval at the slightest hint of tardiness and convey their displeasure in no uncertain terms. They wanted perfection down to the last detail before the product could roll out.

Then on the other hand, my training as a business journalist, conversations with entrepreneurs of all kinds who make things happen at scale, getting hands dirty in a newsroom where deadlines are tight, and in attempting to take things off the ground, it suggests GyShiDo—a polite way to say, “Getting your shit done"—is the way to be.

Over the last year on the back of experience and multiple conversations, I now veer towards that view that perfection can wait. GyShido comes first.

By way of example, men like Leonardo da Vinci and Steve Jobs are celebrated for their obsession for being perfectionists. But what is not spoken of much in the public domain is that Steve Jobs’ quest to find perfection also made him a jerk. He bullied people, was a control freak, and had no moral qualms about building a monolith by exploiting cheap Chinese labour. I am still to read Walter Issacson’s biography of Leonardo. But there is no taking away from the point that his quest for perfection made him a procrastinator and his worst enemy as well.

When looked at from that perspective, it is possible to argue that the quest for perfectionism is an ideal pursuit, and one that must be a lifelong one at that. But while at it, implement a minimum viable product that gets you off the ground. You iterate and fix things as you go along.

If any evidence of the viability of this process is needed, look no further than what is apparently the most evolved of all businesses: Software. Each time a new version is released, it is touted as an improvement over the previous one. Nobody complains. Instead, everyone complies and upgrades.

There will be naysayers and doomsday predictors of all kinds. Pay heed to their voices for all that it is worth. But at some point, you’ve got to take a call and roll with what you have. Ideologues talk from pulpits. People who make the world go around place a premium on GyShiDo.

There are no bad guys

Contrary to what popular narrative would have us believe, there is no such thing as “us" and “them". Only different ways of looking at the world. The world needs ideologues who stoke debates and the kinds who make things happen. Both are fiercely motivated and believe deeply in what they are invested in. So even if you subscribe to the GyShiDo manifesto, it would be outright stupid to dismiss ideologues.

Because at the end of the day, there is no getting away from the reality that perfection is an ideal state. And one must do all that it takes to get there. It is a journey. The issue on hand is, which path do you take to get there the fastest. That is where decisions must be taken.

But how do you choose? Which path do I take? I asked an entrepreneur who subscribes to GyShiDo even as he keeps track of where may perfection lie, how does he manage.

His answer was a simple one. He does not judge people. He only evaluates the idea. In doing that, he asks himself some questions.

1. If I adopt this suggestion, is the outcome reversible? 

2. If the outcome is reversible, how fast can a new iteration be created?

3. If the suggestion is irreversible, what may the possible outcomes be? 

4. How many people can potentially be impacted by a negative outcome? 

5. Does an option exist to an irreversible suggestion? 

The answers to these questions are ones he cannot obtain by consensus and in a democratic manner. It is his cross to carry. Whatever be the outcome of his decision, it is conveyed and executed. But his decisions have to be made in real time. People look up to him. To that extent, he is a very lonely man.

But to stay the course, he is also aware he must also perform at his peak potential at any given point in time. To do that, he needs some creature comforts. That includes right of way and an implicit mandate to eat before the others do.

This was first published in Mint on Sunday

How I won the Pulitzer and other tales

After much bickering with friends on a WhatsApp group over the inflammatory content of a forwarded message that seemed clearly manipulated, I exited the battle. It was clear they wouldn’t consider any evidence I presented if it stood in the way of the alternative “facts” they subscribed to. The version of events presented in the forward aligned with an ideology and came from a source that they considered infallible. Their minds had been manipulated. I realised I would need an altogether different toolkit to prove this to them.

A war had to be waged. But how was it to be won? It occurred to me that few stories carry greater credibility than those that appear in a newspaper. That settled it.

It took 10 minutes to look up an online tool that allowed me to create a news clipping. Another 10 minutes to compose a story that insinuated it had appeared in The New York Times. The final output stated that I’d been shortlisted for the Pulitzer Prize in journalism.

I sent it out on the WhatsApp group with the comment: “Feeling overwhelmed. Thank you for your support guys over the years. Love you all!”

A stunned silence greeted my post. This was going to plan. I was messing with their heads. Eventually, the first message came in. Grudgingly. “Boss! You’ve made us proud!”

“Thanks man! Will call. Fielding too many calls right now and juggling work.” I responded.

A deluge of congratulatory messages from members of the group followed.

What I hadn’t anticipated was how quickly this would backfire as well. Happy with the clip I’d created, I shared it with my wife, daughter and some close friends who understand the news business. I assumed they’d see through it right away. My family knows I try to pull a fast one every once in a while, and if anyone in the news business with a sharp eye looked at it closely, they’d spot it as a fake. But in this case, almost no one did.

As I stepped out of my room a little later, a teary-eyed wife hugged me tight and the older daughter looked all proud of her dad. She couldn’t wait to show off to her friends! Not just that, they’d shared it over WhatsApp with others in the family. I could see messages from friends trickling in on my phone now. They desperately wanted me to get on a call to begin celebrating.

It broke my heart to begin telling everyone it was a fake. And hard to see those around me struggle to hide their disappointment — at having nothing to celebrate, at having been so wrong, and now feeling foolish. That’s when it hit me. People see and hear what they want to see and hear not just because they’re stubborn or incapable of admitting error. It’s also because it’s so much easier to dig the self in deeper than dig the self out of a hole. As with so many things, take enough turns in the road, and it’s almost impossible to turn back.

Those who craft fake narratives understand this intuitively. That is why, as a thumb rule, I don’t take any narrative on social media platforms at face value, even if they originate in people I know.

Why did friends who are ideologically opposed to me, then, buy into my Pulitzer nominee story? And why have they started to consider my opinions on all things more seriously?

Let me put it this way. Humans have fickle memories, and minds that are easily swayed. The story I crafted didn’t attack their ideology. Instead, it was something they wanted to be a part of. Suddenly, what they could see was a friend they grew up with, not an ideological opponent.

I haven’t bothered to clarify with them that it is a prank. But I will, eventually. When we argue as we often do around ideology, and they decline to consider evidence that does not fit their worldview, this clipping will be deployed to demonstrate how easily minds can be manipulated.

This piece was first published in Hindustan Times. Copyrights vest with HT Media

Hackers and Painters

I snitched this headline from the name a book. Hackers and Painters: Big Ideas from the Computer Age. If you haven’t read it yet, may I urge you to? It is a lovely book authored by Paul Graham, a computer scientist, venture capitalist and well, a writer. And if you’re among those not inclined to read a book, he captured the sum and substance of it all in an essay back in 2003.

Some lovely learnings emerge out of it on what comprises the hacker ethic, in which he underlines the significance of relentless practice, devotion to beauty, why a premium ought to be placed on disciplines we are unfamiliar with, the humility to try and imbibe from others what we don’t know of, and above all else, inculcating a habit that allows us to share and collaborate so that we become lifelong learners.

Philosophically, it influenced many in computer science deeply. Because that is where he was best known and enthusiasts—or hackers, as they were called then, when the word wasn’t as bastardized—were enthused by his ideas. They could see the value in what he proposed. When I came of age, I could see merit in his ideas and was among those who embraced them.

But personal philosophies are malleable and susceptible to influences. That is why, at some point, I started to question the premise. I argued against the most beautiful of his ideas—collaboration.

“Maybe, I’m not a nice guy. I don’t care," I wrote once. Friends who knew me as a technology enthusiast and someone who had benefited from it were appalled at what they thought was a complete misunderstanding of a powerful idea. In a scathing indictment, I was told, “the most unfortunate thing is that we have journalists like you..."

In hindsight, I suspect I may have felt insecure with the idea of sharing. Because at the end of the day, my livelihood, I thought, is a function of the ideas and the words that came out of what I think up and my networks. How can I possibly give it away for free? 

That is why, I argued, “by thinking something up and offering it to the collective to improve upon, I stand to lose my livelihood... it leaves me with no incentive to write". Therefore, I ought to do all I can to protect what I come up with.

But much experimentation, conversations and learnings later, I now concede I was wrong. I stand corrected and an apology is in order. I admit the world we live in now wouldn’t have gotten to where it is without collaboration.

So much so that even Microsoft, the bastion of all things proprietary, after having fought to keep the world out of its doors, is now seeking to collaborate. Otherwise, it knows, it will perish.

So, who are hackers and how did hacks get into the lexicon? Everybody, it seems, is into hacking. Computer hacks, study hacks, sleep hacks, food hacks and, to top it all off, life hacks. 

To put that into perspective, let us first understand what a hacker is not:

• Geniuses who write books on “ethical hacking" and sell courses on “ethical hacking" are, well, geniuses. Because it needs a genius to find a market full of idiots willing to pay money to become a “certified hacker". None of what Graham articulated needs to be certified. It is a world view.

• Then there are management gurus who take terms like jugaad—a word most north Indians are familiar with. Loosely translated, a quick fix or, well, a “hack" as it is now understood. Packaged for the West and management schools, it is rephrased and given a lovely twist—frugal innovation.

By way of example, think of a contraption like the jugaad which plies on north Indian roads. The handle of an old scooter, tyres and engine of a motorcycle, the frame of a bicycle, the body of a bullock cart and a diesel engine to are retro-fitted to create a dangerous contraption. 

This is then deployed on the roads for pretty much everything from ferrying people to livestock and goods. It does not fall under the ambit of the Motor Vehicles Act. It is jugaad, and fits the framework of “frugal innovation".

But two problems exist here.

1. It cannot be scaled.

2. It violates the law because it is a safety hazard. So much of a hazard that the Supreme Court had to intervene and has asked all states where such vehicles ply to provide the court with details of what authorities are doing to take these contraptions off the road.

My limited submission here is that the Hacker Ethic in its purest sense is not about finding shortcuts like these. 

Instead, it focuses on finding truth, purpose, beauty, meaning and goodness in an optimum manner. And like I said earlier, this ethic insists we place a premium on optimizing ourselves and our work, so that we can devote as much of our time as we can to learn.

How? Allow me to provide a few instances:

• The other day, I stumbled across an interview of Mark Zuckerberg, the billionaire co-founder of Facebook. The 25-minute interview in which he articulated all of his ideas revealed clarity in thought. But what struck me was something else altogether. While in college, he studied both psychology and computer science.

  In India, this is an alien idea. The way things are, computer science is kosher because it can potentially make an engineer out of you. Psychology is not because it falls in the domain of liberal arts. 

  To cite but one instance, while talking with a doctor the other day, I asked him what his son was up to. He told me the original plan was to get the young man to pursue a career in medicine. But if he doesn’t get through the exams, “let him do arts or some shit".

  The tone was not condescending, but one that smacked of downright derision.

  Hackers sneer at people who speak this language. That is why Zuckerberg studied psychology. All thanks to it, he could ask, “What is it that people want the most?"

  His understanding of the domain taught him that humans seek other people out the most. What he learnt at his computer science class helped him create a software platform that could take his understanding of the human mind into a place he would otherwise not have been able to if he were wedded to either one of the disciplines. In his head, the disciplines collaborated.

  Having done that, he sought out people who understood the other arts, like design, and domains like business to build what is now one of the most formidable entities in the world. He optimized himself by collaborating between disciplines and others.

• Then there is this nonsense I come across every other day about how large organizations are trying to “replicate the start-up culture". And to do that, they have begun by “breaking down silos". This includes doing ridiculous things like spending obscene amounts on creating “open offices".

  Apparently, “open offices" facilitate conversations and an “open culture". Who is to tell them the Hacker Ethic includes an idea called Deep Work? And that there is evidence that conclusively demonstrates open offices are actually an insanely stupid idea because they kill productivity?

  This is because, to get meaningful work done, the human mind needs to find the optimal state to be in—the Flow, as defined by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Most people call it as “being in the zone". To get here, they need their space.

  But organizations, in attempts to ape Facebook or Google without understanding the ethic that drives them, compel people to operate under suboptimal conditions. Zuckerberg didn’t start out trying to build a company. Neither did the founders of Google. They started out by trying to solve problems that real people face.

  To do that, they worked with the resources they had on hand. Which is essentially what a start-up is. That profitable entities came out of it is another story altogether. 

  But in trying to replicate start-up cultures, you cannot force-fit the Hacker Ethic into it. The most charitable thing that can be said of such attempts is that it is a horribly atrociously version of jugaad. It is destined to fail.

• And why will they fail? Because hackers share. They work with the collective. By way of example, take the Human Genome Project (HGP). It is the world’s largest collaborative biological project, conducted across 20 universities and research centres and funded by the governments of the US, UK, Japan, France, Germany, Canada and China. 

The database is there for anybody to access on the Internet. When looked at in isolation, the database can be gibberish because the quantum of information in it is so huge, it is impossible for any single entity to make any meaning out of it. Unless individuals and organizations collaborate to make meaning out of it for the greater common good.

Are there profits to be made out of it? Most certainly. Businesses have come to build around the ecosystem that is the HGP and provide highly personalized services to individuals across the world. The system is still evolving and who knows what may come out of it?

• Now, this ought us to introspect and ask: Am I a hacker? Let’s put it this way. If you think of the Hacker Ethic as a way of life, then yes. It isn’t always about coding and computers alone, but about looking at the wisdom they have gained and trying to emulate it. 

They don’t seek shortcuts. They seek elegant solutions to complex problems. When wrong, they have the humility to admit that they were in the wrong, move on and find the next optimum. They seek, they search, they look for the best ideas and they share as openly as they gain. This ethic is a life of learning, adapting and not scrimping.

This piece was first published in Mint on September 17, 2016