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David Rosh Pina

AI, Reality, Haircuts: Modern Tech Reflections

That morning, I hopped on my scooter, knowing I wouldn’t be able to use it much longer. In a Kafkaesque twist of bureaucracy, the Israeli government now requires plates on these environmentally friendly vehicles. So far, so good, but to get a plate, as a new immigrant (Oleh Chadash), Israel gives a set period (2 to 5 years) to have your original driver’s license recognized. It was too short a period for me.

Getting a haircut was one of my last errands on my beloved two-wheeled “Rolls Royce,” as I like to call my scooter. I zipped through the streets to Ibn Gvirol and Arlosorov in the heart of Tel Aviv. My barber, Baruch, usually works by appointment, but he makes an exception for me, operating on a first-come, first-served basis. Since I made Aliyah in 2017, both Tel Aviv and I have changed a lot. Every city evolves, but the pace at which Tel Aviv transforms is truly breathtaking. Almost none of the restaurants or cafes that were around when I arrived are still here; towers have sprung up like fast-growing bamboo.

I started thinking that the city’s transformation has matched my own, though not quite as rapidly as technology’s advancement. The pace of technology has outpaced everything. ChatGPT and other generative artificial intelligence (AI) models have changed the way we view creativity and even how I see my role as a content creator. During my time at companies like Hailo, Magisto, and other AI firms, I learned that these systems don’t actually “generate” content in the traditional sense. Instead, they, like humans, read and adapt from existing models, essentially crafting their own versions of the text we prompt them to create. Similarly, humans learn from patterns to shape their behavior. We don’t invent anything entirely new, much like generative AI doesn’t create entirely original texts. We’re all just adding our own comma to the larger narrative being written.

A Hasidic man greeted me with “Shabbat shalom” in a square. He probably wanted me to put on a tefillin, but I was on my scooter. Israeli society has changed since my Aliyah. There used to be a seamless interaction between the secular and religious communities, but now the tension is noticeable. I responded with “Shabbat shalom,” and he laughed. Soon, I won’t have my scooter to dash away on, and I might have no choice but to put on a tefillin. Maybe there’s a divine hand guiding my destiny.

When ChatGPT accesses Google and the internet, it taps into the largest libraries in human history, freely drawing from endless sources of models. This is possible only because the advent of the internet has led to the greatest copyright infringement in history. Before Facebook claimed your content as its own, Napster had already disrupted the music industry. The internet is the largest hub of copyright violations in the world. Walter Benjamin would likely be shocked to see where the age of mechanical reproduction has brought us.

Not only is humanity not addressing this copyright infringement, but it is also actively embracing the erosion of human labor brought by this technology. If machines create all, including our dreams, we risk becoming meaningless carbon creatures. Everything might soon become a worthless copy of a copy, including our existence. Why we are embracing this self-destructive path in the name of efficiency is beyond me.

I arrived at Baruch’s, where middle-aged ladies with foil in their hair sat reading old magazines. Baruch, standing in the middle of the room, greeted me with a simple, “David, sit!” As I complied, I noticed he was wearing a machine gun, a new tradition since October 7th.

“The usual?” he asked, cutting even faster than usual but remaining unusually quiet. When his phone rang with a different ringtone, I asked, “Baruch, what do you think of the potential of AI?” He responded in perfect English, listing the vast and transformative impacts of AI across various sectors like healthcare, education, and transportation, while also mentioning the ethical challenges it poses.

It felt like, instead of the old Baruch, I was talking to a highly efficient automaton, one who could handle both terrorists and haircuts with ease. As soon as he finished, I paid the bill. Nothing feels the same, but the haircut was magnificent.

About the Author
Growing up in Portugal, my love affair with the English language started early. I binge-watched American TV shows (thanks, 'Friends') and sang along to The Beatles until my family probably wanted to "Let It Be." Our summer road trips across Europe were always set to the Fab Four's greatest hits, and I’m proud to say I’ve actually read all 367 pages of their 2000 Anthology book. Twice. After earning my master's at USC in Los Angeles (where I learned to love traffic and In-N-Out burgers), I made the leap to Israel, thinking, "What could be more interesting than the Middle East?" Spoiler alert: Nothing is. I've since worked in marketing for several high-tech companies, dabbled in PR, and even collaborated with the Jerusalem Post. I’m a bit of a polyglot, speaking five languages, and I’ve published two books. One is a children’s book in Hebrew called "Yara and her Grandfathers," which focuses on the LGBT community. The other is my latest novel about the creation of Tel Aviv, titled "The White City." (Yes, I'm already thinking about the movie rights.) These days, you can find me living in Tel Aviv with my wonderful wife Lena and working for the municipality. Life’s good, and I still find time to occasionally belt out "Hey Jude" in the shower.
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