Part I: In Search of the Sacred Fire

The Specter of Obsolescence

Artificial intelligence, like a torrent of new beginnings, crashes against the shores of our creative landscapes, bringing promise and peril in equal measure. For writers, it is both an invitation and a specter—a machine capable of weaving prose at speeds unimaginable, threatening the sanctity of human thought. “Demain tu verras” ("Tomorrow, you will see"), whispers the machine, its relentless hum promising a future of infinite stories crafted without the human hand. But at what cost?

Writers, the stewards of the sacred fire, stand on trembling ground. The advent of AI challenges their role as creators, their value as thinkers, and their identity as chroniclers of the human experience. Could the pen be completely replaced by an algorithm? Could the soulful act of writing become an obsolete relic, discarded like the typewriter or the horse-drawn carriage?

Some argue that this shift is inevitable, that the Writer will soon be relegated to the margins of cultural memory. But writers—like “the gazelle who must run every day, day and night” ("la gazelle qui doit courir tous les jours, de nuit comme de jour") —refuse to yield. In their pursuit of meaning, they will adapt, embracing what cannot be replicated: the ineffable spark of human subjectivity.

Humanity, an Enduring Muse

Though artificial intelligence can mimic patterns, replicate genres, and even conjure beauty from binary code, it cannot hold a mirror to the human soul. It cannot feel the sharp sting of loss or the swelling joy of love. “Nous habitons l’absence de ceux qui ne sont plus, en traçant nos propres sillons éphémères” ("We inhabit the absence of those who are no longer here, tracing our own ephemeral furrows"). This absence, this ephemerality, is where human writers thrive, crafting stories not from data but from the raw material of lived experience.

The Writer of tomorrow, then, becomes a bridge—an interpreter of human nuance in a world increasingly dominated by machines. The sacred fire of creativity is not extinguished by AI; it is reignited by the very challenge of staying human in a mechanized age.

The Writer of Tomorrow: Assistant or Creator?

In this evolving landscape, the relationship between writer and tool must be renegotiated. AI offers the possibility of partnership: a brainstorming companion, a generator of ideas, a second set of “eyes” to catch overlooked details. But partnership must not devolve into dependence. I remind, that facing this high tide, the temptations of the new tool “La ville tout entière roule et croule” ("The whole city rolls and collapses") — a warning against allowing the relentless motion of technology to collapse the foundation of our creativity.

The act of writing is sacred labor—a “buisson ardent,” born of struggle, introspection, and the ineffable desire to transform thoughts into words. To hand over too much of this labor to the machine is to risk losing the very soul of writing. Yet, trembling fingers search for the light, caught between the allure of ease and the duty to preserve their craft.

Originality: The Command of the Future

In a world where AI churns out text at an industrial scale, the writer’s refuge lies in their individuality. No algorithm can replicate the fingerprints of a soul, the deeply personal lens through which a writer views the world. “Le mot est plus vaste que le monde” ("The Word is more vast than the World"), and it is this vastness—this unquantifiable depth—that will remain the writer’s greatest strength.

Creativity in the age of AI is no longer about quantity; it is about quality and singularity. The writer must dare to dive deep, to uncover truths that a machine cannot fathom. As AI saturates the world with homogenized content, the call to originality becomes a battle cry. The writer, armed with their unique perspective, will resist becoming “une taffe de cigarette tirée par le Haoussa émigré” ("a puff of cigarette drawn by the Haoussa emigrant")—a transient puff lost in the chaos of automation.

Rebirth in a Digital World

The story of writing in the age of AI remains unwritten, a blank page waiting to be filled. The tools may evolve, but the essence of storytelling—the human impulse to connect, to share, to understand—endures. Writers will not vanish; they will transform, their craft sharpened by the very challenges AI presents. “Chaque respiration est bouffée d’espoir” ("Each breath is a gasp of hope"), and it is this hope that will guide writers into the future.

Part II: The Thrilling Case of the Living Performance

The Inimitable Presence of the Body

While AI encroaches upon the domains of text and image, it falters in the realm of physical presence. No machine can replicate the immediacy of live performance—the trembling voice of a poet, the unrepeatable gestures of a dancer, the raw electricity of theater. I say, “La vie tue la vie parce que la vie est abondante” ("Life kills life because life is abundant").

In these ephemeral moments, the human body becomes the ultimate creator, crafting art that cannot be automated. Theater, dance, and live poetry thrive in their imperfection, their spontaneity, their irreducible humanity. They are, paradoxically, strengthened by what AI cannot achieve.

AI as a Catalyst for the Living Arts

The rise of AI may, ironically, catalyze a renewed appreciation for live performance. As machines dominate static forms of art, the hunger for what is “fait de chair et de souffle” ("made of flesh and breath") will grow. Live performances become sanctuaries of authenticity, spaces where human imperfection is not a flaw but a feature.

This paradoxical dynamic could lead to a renaissance of theater and other physical art forms. The very limitations of AI—its inability to feel, to improvise, to exist in real time—elevate the value of the human performer. Just as Dossavi’s “Lagune est belle de ses moustiques et ses libellules” ("The lagoon is beautiful with its mosquitoes and dragonflies"), so too does the living performance find beauty in its idiosyncrasies.

An Art that Defies Automation

In the face of automation, the artist’s path becomes one of resistance and reinvention. Writers, performers, and creators will seek spaces that machines cannot invade—the tactile, the transient, the deeply human. Il déclare, “Laissez-nous mourir… Prenez nos places, vous qui en savez plus que nous” ("Let us die... Take our places, you who know more than we do"). I declare the irreducible value of the human experience.

Creativity will not vanish; it will shift. Artists will return to the origins of expression, rediscovering the power of presence, gesture, and imperfection. The stage, the page, and the canvas will become battlegrounds for the human soul, arenas where the sacred fire burns brightest.

In this dialectical danse of the present, this paradoxical turn of fates and facts, AI becomes not the destroyer but the challenger, a force that compels humanity to redefine its creative boundaries. The writer, the performer, the artist—each will rise to meet this challenge, proving once again that “le mot est glaive dans la main du roi et révolte dans la bouche du faible” ("the word is a sword in the hand of the king and a revolt in the mouth of the weak").

The sacred fire of creativity is not extinguished; it evolves, burning brighter in the hands of those who dare to wield it. The writer of tomorrow will not be silenced by machines but inspired by them, crafting stories that only a human heart can tell.

The french quotes are extracted from my recent poetry collection “Pour les beaux yeux du monde”*, tentative translations follow each of them.

(2023) DOSSAVI-ALIPOEH A. R. (Ayi DOSSAVI) Pour les Beaux Yeux du Monde, Editions AGAU, 132 p. (Poetry)