This piece is a thought experiment in simulated interviews. The interviewees are synthesized from field anthropology and documentary practice perspectives and do not represent any real person’s actual words.
I work with AI, yet I am consistently moved by life outside of AI.
The blackness of caves in Laos, the sting of a wound after a motorcycle fall, the wind along the Mekong, a stranger who read a story in my eyes, and the stretched-out time of walking instead of riding on the Four Thousand Islands—none of these experiences has model-like efficiency or can be reproduced with one click.
In April’s notes, I wrote: “The more AI generates, the farther users move from their experiences.” Later, I added: “In an era of information acceleration, slowness and care carry more weight.”
This could easily be framed as a comforting conclusion: The stronger AI becomes, the more valuable authenticity becomes.
But what is authenticity? Does simply having been there make it authentic? Does seeking publishable suffering through a lens make it less real? When experiences become content assets, does physical presence merely become a new form of packaging?
Authenticity Isn’t a Source Label
Me: How do you distinguish authentic experience from generated content?
Field Anthropologist: It’s not enough to consider where the material originates. Being present doesn’t automatically equate to authenticity, and generated content doesn’t inherently mean falsehood.
People selectively observe, rationalize afterward, and weave local lives into their own romantic narratives. Generated content that clearly states its sources and accurately organizes evidence might be closer to truth than a tourist’s first impression.
The real distinction lies in whether reality resists your narrative. After you’re on-site, do your initial judgments shift? Do you encounter people or details that can’t be edited into your theme? Do you bear consequences for relationships or errors? If the scene only provides lenses that reinforce your preconceptions, “being there” becomes merely a more expensive prompt.
Documentary Director: I don’t fully accept the “reality resists narrative” standard. Some scenes wouldn’t occur before the camera appears. People organize memories only when asked, and they may even become someone else in front of the lens. That performance isn’t necessarily less authentic—it might reveal a wish that had no outlet.
The camera inevitably alters the scene. Authenticity can’t be achieved by eliminating the medium; it requires the medium’s influence to be visible and doesn’t pretend the camera doesn’t exist. Anthropologists fear narratives consuming the scene, while directors sometimes deliberately create space for truths that couldn’t emerge otherwise. Their ethical frameworks shouldn’t be forced into the same rule.
The AI era is no exception. Don’t pretend you haven’t used generative tools—clearly state which parts come from observation, which from inference, and which remain unknown.
Why Physical Presence Offers Knowledge AI Models Lack
Me: What makes physical presence irreplaceable?
Field Anthropologist: The body is a cost-bearing mechanism for understanding. Calling it a “more romantic sensor” understates its role.
Rain disrupts plans, fatigue alters patience, language barriers expose power dynamics, and staying long enough creates debts. These friction points force you to recognize that the world isn’t structured for your understanding.
Text might tell you a city moves slowly, but the body must actually endure afternoons without cars, instant services, or familiar efficiency. You might enjoy it—or become frustrated. That frustration is knowledge because it reveals what you truly depend on.
Documentary Director: There’s also waiting. Many meaningful moments aren’t found but emerge when you don’t leave. Generative systems tend to compress silence into nothing, yet relationships with places often form during the unsummarizable intervals of stillness.
“Primitive” Life Is Easily Consumed
In May’s notes, I wrote that I felt a strong resonance with authenticity, primitiveness, and slow living. This judgment needs to be re-examined.
Me: What problems arise from liking primitive life?
Field Anthropologist: “Primitive” is often how people with modern safety nets label others’ lives.
Travelers can enjoy disconnection, dust, and low costs before returning to medical care, passports, and digital income. Locals might not view infrastructure gaps as mere slowness. Praising their happiness could erase their right to leave.
Your feeling remains authentic, but it cannot define someone else’s life. Authenticity requires holding contradictory truths: a place might have looser relationships but fewer opportunities; people might be happy while hoping their children enter more modern systems.
If an article smooths contradictions too neatly, it’s already distant from the scene.
Will AI Turn “Being There” Into a New Identity Currency?
Documentary Director: Yes—and it’s already happening. After generating polished perspectives, “I was there” becomes a new form of authority. Next comes an experience arms race: farther, riskier, more private, more brutal.
When experiences are used to prove a creator’s scarcity, people enter the scene but still only see themselves. Suffering becomes background, relationships become material, and adventure becomes brand value.
Me: How can we avoid this?
Documentary Director: Ask three questions.
First, if this experience could never be published, would I still enter? Second, could the people recorded disagree with my interpretation? Third, who bears the risks and rewards of the work?
These questions don’t guarantee perfect outcomes—but they should ensure asymmetries are written into the work.
The Evidence Structure of Authentic Content
Authenticity shouldn’t be just a writing style. Plenty of first-person details can be fabricated, and rough photos can be designed.
A more reliable expression distinguishes four layers:
- Observation: What was seen, heard, or done at the time;
- Experience: How the body and emotions responded;
- Explanation: What judgments were formed from this;
- Boundary: What counterexamples exist, and where I lack authority to conclude for others.
For example, “Lao people are happier than people in Shenzhen” is an overreach. “In the scenes I encountered, a sense of ease and relational density made me feel happier—but as someone with an exit strategy, I cannot judge the full lives of local people” preserves experience while respecting boundaries.
AI can help organize these layers but shouldn’t compress them into a confident tone.
The Truly Scarce Creative Skills Ahead
As writing, imaging, and video production costs continue to drop, scarcity won’t just be in firsthand experience. Everyone has daily experiences, but most won’t automatically become good work.
What’s scarcer are three conversion abilities:
- Entering a scene that can challenge your own perspective;
- Not rushing to claim meaning during intense experiences;
- Returning to separate facts, feelings, and inferences so readers know what can be trusted and what remains personal.
Field Anthropologist: Authenticity isn’t “unprocessed.” Unprocessed life can’t be directly transmitted. Authenticity is closer to honesty about the processing itself.
Documentary Director: Not everything should be produced. Sometimes the most respectful approach to experience is to not film or publish it—letting it change only those present.
A Segment I Chose to Write Less About
In May’s journal, I wrote about a woman I met by the Mekong River. She spoke about having worked as an actor, singer, and shop owner, and about the life that followed. In that moment I felt understood, and I wanted to use the encounter as proof that I could quickly form deep connections with strangers.
When rewriting this, I realized that the most compelling parts of her story belonged to her: turns in her career, speculation about marriage, and regret over not continuing as an online creator. Those details could make the piece feel more “authentic,” but the risk would fall almost entirely on someone who had no part in writing it. I have no appropriate way to ask her for confirmation now.
So I’m not adding more details or framing her as a “slow life” or “soul connection” case. What remains is the fact that that night’s conversation made me feel seen; months later, I still remember that feeling—but I lack the power to fully explain it.
AI could tighten this text further or even add highly plausible environmental details. Right now, the hardest act is deletion: removing a story that would make the piece more compelling while accepting readers won’t know how deeply I was moved.
The piece loses a little proof—but that night might retain a little more that belongs only to the participants.
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