Why We’ll Choose People Over Perfect Machines

Right now, a lot of people are worried about AI taking over the things humans do. One of the biggest fears lies in creative work - AI actors, AI presenters, and AI influencers emerging on social media. And it’s easy to imagine a future where flawless digital performances dominate screens because every expression can be perfectly rendered, and every voice can be synthetically cloned and tuned to emotional precision. So, on the surface, it looks like the end of human performance. But something fundamental is missing from that picture.

Authenticity isn’t about how real something looks - it’s about knowing it’s real. And we really need to start realising that those two things are not the same.

We like to know that the person we’re watching actually existed - that they breathed that air, spoke those words, and lived in that moment. Each frame of human-made content is a snapshot of reality, captured once, never to be repeated. And while AI can generate infinite artificial moments, it can never create a real one.

That difference, though invisible to the naked eye, changes everything. We don’t bond with people that look like they exist, we bond with people who do exist. Not pixels - presence.

When you watch a real person speak their thoughts, fumble a line, or laugh unexpectedly, that’s when we connect with them. Because we’re not just seeing an image - we’re seeing intent. Someone who felt something real in that moment, and was recorded sharing it.

That’s the connection I’m interested in, and it’s why I’m driven to make and publish YouTube videos. I’m also convinced that it’s important for 99% of people to see a real person, documented on camera. There is a gulf of difference between a digital avatar or a polished simulation. We crave presence - camera on, mic live, and the performance of an actor or presenter - their actions and thoughts captured in real time.

That’s what makes human content special. That’s what makes it alive. And no matter how much AI begins to dominate content creation, it’s not going anywhere.

History Teaches Us

Every time a new medium appears, people predict it will spell the death of an old one. But history proves that never happens:

• Theatre was meant to disappear when film arrived.

• Radio was supposed to die when television took over.

• Books were said to be finished when the Internet began.

And yet today, theatre thrives, podcasts are booming, and books remain a global obsession. Why? It’s because each medium offers something distinct - a different kind of human experience. Theatre gives us the electric presence of shared space - real people right there in front of us and the ever-present possibility of error or improvisation. Radio allows us to use our imagination - a story unfolding in our minds while we go about our day. And books give us solitude and quiet introspection - a private world of thought where we can build images in our minds.

Technological progression has failed to erase these things. Instead, it simply adds new layers of technology one on top of another. Each layer changes how we interact, and it reduces participation with previous layers, but we still have a fondness and a love for older approaches. Just look at the resurgence of vinyl records, teenagers buying walkmans and a continuing love for cinema.  

The changes brought about as a result of AI will follow a similar pattern.

Yes, AI will dominate many areas - information-heavy content such as product reviews, data analysis, tutorials, and maybe even parts of journalism. It will likely weigh in on the world of animation, and make its mark on special-effects heavy movies. In those spaces, audiences are often less concerned with feeling the fizz of human connection.

But when it comes to ideas, emotion, and lived experience - when the goal is not just to inform, but to resonate - people will still want to see people. The flawed, warm, unpredictable human voice will always carry a unique kind of depth that machines can’t replicate.

Plus, every technological layer we build only increases the value of what’s real. As the world becomes more synthetic, authenticity becomes rarer, and therefore, more precious.

Connection, Not Content

When we watch real people - actors, artists, thinkers, storytellers - we don’t just consume what they make. We want to connect with who they are. That’s why behind-the-scenes footage, interviews, and outtakes are consumed just as much as the movie or show itself. We want to see the people behind the process.

I discuss this fact constantly in my role as an art & design lecturer. Students often think their work alone will speak for them, but in the digital era, audiences expect more. They want to see the artist - their process, their workspace…even their lunch. They want continuity and to sense the presence of the creator, not just work they create. We follow people because of their story, not just only to consume their output.

AI avatars can’t give us that. They will never give us that.

• They can’t be interviewed.

• They can’t stumble over their words.

• They can’t age, evolve, or reveal vulnerability.

They can simulate these things, but simulation is not life.

And when we knowingly watch AI pretending to live, something feels missing because something is missing. The illusion realistically convinces our eyes, but it fails to touch our emotions. That’s because there’s no biography connecting one moment to the next - no shared history and no heartbeat behind the performance. Audiences might not always be able to articulate what’s wrong, but they’ll feel it. They’ll sense the absence of a real human presence - the subtle discontinuity that separates imitation from reality.

As perfect simulations flood the world, the imperfect will become the proof of life. Viewers will start seeking out the flaws - slip-ups, laughter and raw emotion - because those are signs that what they’re seeing is actually real.

In that sense, authenticity will become the new gold. It will prove itself to be the rarest and most valuable resource in a digital world swamped with flawless fakes.

Growing Into Authenticity

Think about childhood. As kids, most people are drawn to cartoons - exaggerated colours, endless fantasy, and voices full of caricature. But as we age, our tastes evolve and we start craving truth. We want emotion that feels real. That’s not coincidence - it’s part of how we grow and change as we mature. Children connect through sensation and immediacy, but adults connect through authenticity. We move from enjoying representations of life to wanting to experience its presence.

This is why live music feels imperceptibly different from a recorded track. It’s also why a shaky phone video of a wedding can feel more moving than a professionally produced film. We don’t just want to see emotion performed - we want to know it was felt.

The same shift will define the next era of creative media - as AI perfects imitation, humans will rediscover the value of imperfection. The things that once made us insecure (our quirks, flaws, and unpredictability) will become our greatest strengths. We are entering a landscape where we can truly cash in on our diversity, and celebrate our imperfections. 

The imperfect delivery, the nervous smile, and the laughter that breaks through a serious moment - these will stand as evidence that a genuine person was really there. We will undoubtedly admire the precision of AI, but we’ll never turn our backs on the warmth of flawed reality. Because deep down, we’re not searching for the perfect image or a simulated performance - we’re searching for each other.

The Future of Human Artistry

There’s a quiet irony to all this. The more lifelike AI becomes, the more we’ll crave everything it can never be. We’ll begin to see human creativity not as a competition with machines, but as a different category altogether - something defined not by skill or precision, but by the simple fact of being.

An AI can mimic the Mona Lisa, but it can’t sit in a Florentine workshop, paintbrush in hand, guided by the unquashable drive of inspiration. It can’t accidentally make a mistake that becomes the defining feature of a masterpiece. Human creativity has never just been about the outcome - it’s so often about the process. The doubt, the decision, the feeling we get when we know we are giving birth to something new. All of that gets baked into what we make - the scorch marks of our creative fire are evident in our creations. And that’s what makes it precious.

We create not because we are efficient, but because we are alive. Every drawing, song, video, and performance carries a trace of the person who made it. Not just their style, but their presence - a fingerprint of a mind and a moment in which someone did something. That’s why we will never be replaced - because what we offer isn’t perfection. It’s proof. Proof that behind every idea there was a mind, and behind every creation, there was a heartbeat.

As AI saturates our screens with endless, immaculate simulations, people will turn back towards the authentic. They’ll crave the human touch not as nostalgia, but as necessity - the thing that reminds us who we are.

The Return to Real

In the years to come, it’s likely that AI-generated content will outnumber human-made material by a huge margin. The internet is already starting to overflow with immaculate fakes - perfect faces, voices, and performances generated on demand. This will only increase, layering simulation over simulation for the sake of entertainment and engagement.

And yet, within that ocean of simulation, something remarkable will happen. Human-made outcomes will rise to the surface. They will stand out precisely because of their imperfections, and the connection people feel when they experience them.

When viewers stumble upon an actor who is visibly, undeniably real, they’ll stay. Not for the polish, but for the presence. The algorithms will dominate streaming platforms, but authenticity will rule their heart. Because, at the end of the day, we’re not driven purely by information or entertainment. We’re driven by connection. The need to recognise ourselves in others and the need to know that somewhere out there - another mind - is feeling something too.

AI will change everything - but not that. We will marvel at the precision of synthetic creativity, but we’ll always want what’s real. Because even in a world of perfect machines, we’ll still choose people. Of that much, I am certain.

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