EDITORS DESK
In a recent conversation I had with several media practitioners, the discussion moved across many topics, but one subject immediately took over the room: artificial intelligence (AI).
Today, AI is everywhere. Open Facebook and you’ll likely encounter cats fighting like martial arts masters. Scroll through Youtube and many of the thumbnails and preview images are already AI-generated. Even entire novels, songs, essays, and artworks are now being produced in seconds by machines trained to imitate human creativity.
But beyond the amusing and bizarre side of AI lies something far more profound and quite unsettling.
One of the more serious discussions centered on OpenAI’s GPT 5.3 Codex, a coding model that reportedly became instrumental in helping improve versions of itself. Then there is Moltbook, a social platform designed exclusively for AI agents only. Think Reddit but for machines only. Humans are only allowed to observe the machines talking among themselves.
Just a few years ago, these concepts would have sounded like science fiction. Today, they are reality.
And perhaps that is why Charlize Theron’s recent comments during the press tour of the 2026 survival thriller “Apex” resonated so strongly across industries beyond Hollywood. Responding to Timothee Chalamet’s controversial remarks dismissing ballet and opera as fading art forms, Theron bluntly said: “In 10 years, AI is going to be able to do Timothee’s job, but it will not be able to replace a person on a stage dancing live.”
She later clarified that she may have spoken emotionally and acknowledged that nobody truly knows what the future holds. But the statement had already struck a nerve.
There has been some push back. There are news agencies that are banning AI to crawl its website and content. Getty Images doesn’t accept content produced by AI tools. And just this month, The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (Oscars) announced that it is banning AI-generated actors and scripts from the awards.
But the truth is, AI is no longer arriving. It has already arrived.
It is inside newsrooms, production houses, advertising agencies, publishing companies, design studios, and film editing bays. Stories are now drafted in seconds. Campaigns are conceptualized through prompts. Photos can be generated without cameras. Headlines are optimized before an editor can even finish coffee.
Media today exists in a strange contradiction. Never before has information moved this quickly. Never before have creators had access to this much efficiency. And yet, despite all the technological advancement, media has also never felt this exhausted.
Perhaps because AI is exposing something that already existed long before ChatGPT entered the public consciousness: a creative industry that has long been operating under pressure to produce more, faster, cheaper, and louder. For years, media organizations worldwide have been cutting budgets, reducing manpower, chasing algorithms, and prioritizing virality over substance. AI did not create the commodification of content. It merely accelerated it.
This is why Theron’s distinction between cinema and live performance matters.
A live performance cannot be replicated by predictive text. A stage actor cannot hide behind automation. A ballet performance succeeds not because it is flawless, but because it is human. The imperfections, spontaneity, vulnerability, and emotional presence are precisely what make it real.
Ironically, AI’s rise may eventually force journalism and publishing to rediscover authenticity.
In a digital landscape increasingly saturated with machine-generated content, audiences may begin valuing perspective over perfection. Discernment over speed. Humanity over optimization. And this is where creative industries, like media, can be champions by placing the “human voice” front and center.
The more artificial the world becomes, the more people will search for proof that another human being is still behind the work.
(Rey Robes Ilagan is the editor of Manila Bulletin’s Lifestyle section.)