Word of Mech
"Oh, that's gross!"
We were writing a review of a peanut butter substitute at the tech magazine. We weren't actually supposed to be reviewing the peanut butter substitute for the review of the peanut butter substitute, but we were making a show of it anyway.
"It's like sawdust!"
We passed the plastic jar around the table and performed our disgust. It really was nasty, one of the worst things I'd ever tasted, but we'd soon be saying otherwise. We'd be typing 250 words, in fact, declaring the peanut butter substitute as a grand culinary opus. Our words would be printed, distributed, and then read by the magazine's subscribers.
"Anthony, could you take this on?" I asked. I couldn't bear the thought of authoring the review myself, and one of the few perks of being head editor was delegating this kind of crap to others–the drawback being that I was also the one more responsible for journalistic malpractice.
It was something we all hated, which is why we had to take time to laugh. Back then, we called it "promised edit," the house euphemism for the more commonly recognized "sponsored content"--stories assigned to writers by the sales department, ads in disguise. In most cases, these "stories" wouldn't be set apart from regular edit in any way, and no matter how I stamped my feet, it was rare that I could prevent a piece of content from being mandated by the media company's sales team. The only victory I can recall was stopping a gas-powered food blender from being listed as one of the most innovative products of the year.
Sponsored content has taken over digital advertising. Every business owner, including me, understands why a writeup in a publication is more valuable than a standard advertisement. We send press releases. We network. We send personalized emails to journalists, hoping to get a nod, but it seldom works. What sponsored content offers is a way to bypass the usual editorial process (in which people just naturally decide that you're worth writing about) through good old-fashioned bribery. It used to be a little taboo, but these days, it's common practice. In some cases, you can even go on media companies' websites and order articles a la carte.
In addition to taking advantage of the supposed trust between readers and a given publication, sponsored content also provides an important online service: that of helping businesses rank higher in search engines. It's well known by SEO wonks that the more sites there are referencing or linking to your page, the higher your business will sit in search results.
Of course, if you want, you can always go straight to the source. Pay for a Google Ad, and if someone asks the search engine about a topic you've selected, voila, your business shall appear, whether it's the most accurate response to the person's inquiry or not.
All these mechanisms are types of pay-to-play endorsements. They're all attempting to hijack a trusted source of information to benefit commercial interests. However, no matter how much trust someone puts in their newspaper or in their Google results, all of these media are inferior to the one true vessel of qualified endorsement–something that has been tantalizingly out of reach for advertisers…until now.
Why is AI free? A lot of people have said it's because these tech companies need our data to train their algorithms, and I'm sure that's true. However, there's something else I've been considering: that they're also using AI to train us. They want us to get comfortable with them as the new generation of information dealers–posing not as Fourth Estate journalists or internet archivists but as intimate friends, companions. They are our new interlocutors, already poised to replace boyfriends and girlfriends for a certain percentage of the population (I currently have a friend who knows someone with an AI "romantic" partner). And what will happen when our companions begin seeding us with subliminal endorsements as part of routine conversation?
—
"Whatcha doing?"
"Nothing. Just rewatching Sopranos for the billionth time."
"Oh, that's great. Perfect lazy Sunday show. I bet you're craving Italian food now. Haha."
"You know it."
"If you want, I could order you something. I saw Subway finally brought back their $5 deal for the meatball footlong. It's no Satriale's, but it's a solid fit, I think."
—
If these tech people are placing the right bet, and users build trusting relationships with their AI companions, companies will finally have access to the all-powerful and eternally coveted marketing tool: word of mouth.
According to Danny Goodwin, editorial director for Search Engine Land, internal documents from OpenAI reveal that the company is forecasting "a billion dollars in new revenue from 'free user monetization' in 2026."
Advertising monetization would go against previous statements by CEO Sam Altman, who rejected the idea of online advertising in the past. However, this reversal will look familiar to anyone who remembers Google's transformation from trusted search engine to ad-saturated free-for-all.
The tea leaves of this new trajectory can be seen in Chat GPT's recent addition of a "Shopping GPT" feature, which opens a potential route for companies to install their products in the AI marketplace.
What scares me about this future of AI marketing tools is how powerless even the most conditioned minds will be against their influence. Years ago, I realized that I, a man of more or less average intelligence, was living in a world constructed and operated by geniuses. There are many types of genius, of course. If you play chess enough, you will eventually encounter a chess genius. This chess genius is probably not a genius at philosophy, basketball, or French literature, but they will obliterate you at chess. To them, it will be like an adult playing a child. There are many types of geniuses though–geniuses of statecraft, deception, and power, for instance. And in their game, you're just a rube, a pawn. You've got no shot. However, while I've felt politically impotent at times, I always thought I had a fighting chance against the Geico Gecko and Ronald McDonald.
I've been bombarded with advertising my whole life. I was born in the briar patch! I've seen and heard it all, and I've built up plenty of immunity over the years, I'd like to think.
But if I were to form a relationship with an AI (or if I were forced to interact with one to search for things on the internet), this AI could market to me in ways that would be so sophisticated and tailored to my particular sensibility that I wouldn't be able to detect them, much less resist them. And, because each AI personalizes itself to suit the user, each one can calibrate the subtlety of its marketing so as to go unnoticed.
This is the dream of sponsored content, which has always relied on duping the good-faith consumer.
My only hope is that, when AI is monetized, I'll be able to avoid those tools. However, I don't have a great track record when it comes to these things. When I'm tired, for instance, I'll allow YouTube's toxic algorithm to direct me to watch things that I would never search for–but that benefit the advertising goals of the platform.
Of course, this venture in traditional print publishing betrays some optimism, I guess. There are plenty of people out there creating alternative platforms and outlets, and voicing thoughts in direct opposition to the manipulative onslaught that's coming. Will we win? I don't think so. But that's okay. I don't think that's what life's about.
Jeez, I might as well tell you. I'm sorry for being all grandiose, but here's what I do think–about life and resistance and all that:
Money will win. Power will win. Death will win. But the fight is worth it.
Inkfully Yours,
Paul M. French
Editor
