Edward Dunsworth
Two approaches dominate discussion about how professors should handle generative “artificial intelligence” in the classroom: give up or give in.
Give up. Faced with a powerful new technology custom-cut for cheating, many professors are throwing up their hands in despair. This was the dominant mood of last month’s widely shared New York Magazine article. “Everyone is cheating their way through college: ChatGPT has unraveled the entire academic project,” its doomsday headline proclaimed. The article paints a depressing picture: students using AI to cheat, constantly and without compunction; professors out of ideas for how to deal with it. “Every time I talk to a colleague about this, the same thing comes up: retirement,” one professor told author James D. Walsh. “When can I retire? When can I get out of this? That’s what we’re all thinking now.”
Give in. A second response has been to surrender to the techno-hype of ChatGPT, to embrace generative AI as a teaching tool. “It’s an opportunity to open the door of creativity in the classroom,” gushed historian Jo Guldi in a 2024 interview, “and simultaneously raise the bar for the quality of the work we expect from our students.” Professors are encouraging students to use AI software not just for rote tasks like transcription and data compilation, but for more cerebral activities like brainstorming, analysis, and even writing. Mark Humphries, who has led the pro-AI charge among Canadian historians, boldly declared in a February article that, with increasing AI use among students, “poorly crafted theses, unsupported arguments, and narrative papers without an argument should become a thing of the past.”
I reject both approaches.[1] Not because I don’t appreciate the revolutionary challenge that generative AI poses to humanities and social sciences education, and to our society at large, but precisely because of it.[2] At this worrying juncture, as multitudes – on campus and off – cede ever more of their thinking and writing to computer programs, historians and other humanistic intellectuals should not be shying away from the challenge, but rising to it. We know (or should know) the value of deep thinking, of labouring through complex research and writing projects. We have (or should have) an inkling of what students are losing when they skip over these tasks. Rather than giving up or giving in, we should be standing up and speaking up. For our students, for our craft, and for quaint human practices like thinking and writing.
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