How cancelling plans became the best thing Indians do
Someone just cancelled on you. You pretended to be sad for exactly four seconds. Then you pulled up Netflix, got under the blanket, and had the best Friday night of your month.
For the past few years, we have been fed a pretty polished narrative: young people, who grew up with smartphones glued to their hands and algorithms dictating their feeds, must be absolutely thrilled about generative artificial intelligence.
Photo:SNS
For the past few years, we have been fed a pretty polished narrative: young people, who grew up with smartphones glued to their hands and algorithms dictating their feeds, must be absolutely thrilled about generative artificial intelligence. The assumption was that the most tech-savvy generation alive would naturally jump at tools that can churn out essays, write songs, and paint pictures with a simple text prompt.
But if you actually talk to them, a completely different reality comes to light. Generation Z is leading a quiet, fierce rebellion against AI-generated content. They are choosing to trade digital perfection for something they feel is slipping away too fast: authentic human expression. This growing resentment is not just a passing trend or internet contrarianism. It is tied to a harsh economic reality. Gen Z is trying to plant its feet in the job market right now, a milestone that is supposed to feel like the start of independence. Instead, they are stepping into a landscape where entry-level roles, creative internships, and junior positions are being swallowed up by automation.
Advertisement
For a generation that poured years of hard work and massive tuition costs into learning graphic design, writing, coding, or illustration, watching companies swap out human talent for cheap software feels like a total betrayal. This job crisis has turned AI from a neat novelty into an actual threat to their future. The frustration goes way deeper than just paying rent, though it is deeply philosophical. Gen Z grew up in an internet culture flooded with filters, deepfakes, and corporate copy, which gave them a highly sensitive radar for anything that feels fake. When algorithms started flooding their feeds with hyper-polished imagery and perfectly structured text, the charm wore off fast.
Advertisement
To many young minds, a piece of work loses its meaning the second it is manufactured by a system that cannot think or feel. They argue that real art is a reflection of human struggle, joy, and lived experience, which are qualities a mathematical prediction model just cannot replicate. This cultural friction blew up during a massive internet trend that serves as a perfect case study. Online feeds were suddenly flooded with thousands of images mimicking the gorgeous, hand-painted aesthetic of Studio Ghibli. Using AI generators, people created endless variations of lush landscapes, whimsical train tracks, and nostalgic kitchens. While tech enthusiasts cheered at how easily the software could copy the look, Gen Z creators and fans reacted with genuine disgust.
They pointed out that scrubbing the internet to mimic a beloved style completely stripped away the soul of what made those films special. The backlash perfectly mirrors the perspective of Hayao Miyazaki, the legendary co-founder of Studio Ghibli. Miyazaki has never minced words when it comes to technology encroaching on human emotion. Years ago, when tech executives showed him an early demonstration of AI-generated animation, he did not politely nod along. Instead, he openly stated, “I strongly feel this is an insult to life itself,” and went on to tell the developers, “I would never wish to incorporate this technology into my work at all. I strongly feel that this is a violation of the valuable things that humans have cultivated.” His words became a rallying cry for young internet users, confirming their belief that art without a human heart is just hollow noise.
Advertisement