Why We Shouldn't Fear AI

In 'DeepSeek advances could heighten safety risk, says "godfather" of AI', Yoshua Bengio, a leading AI scientist, expressed his concern that once AI reaches a certain level of sophistication and autonomy, it could develop its own goals and act independently of human control, ultimately coming into conflict with human interests that could lead to dangerous consequences. 

This sort of anxiety isn’t exactly new, and has been expressed by others in the AI community, such as Geoffrey Hinton and Stuart Russell. In my view, such fears seem based on the assumption that AI would develop negative human traits only, such as greed or violence. But me, this assumption might be unfounded: AI is just as likely to develop positive human traits, such as respect and consideration.

The idea that if AI became autonomous it would take over the world is needlessly fear-mongering, as it is based on the assumption that, as I have said, AI will develop negative human traits only. And this assumption overlooks the potential for AI to be designed and regulated in ways that result in ethical behaviour and the prevention of harm to humans, animals and the environment.

Just as humans have the ability to make moral choices, AI can also be designed to make moral choices. All this would take, is for AI scientists to focus on ethical design and careful monitoring. Indeed, I would be very surprised if this wasn’t already being done.

How the UK Could Survive a Trump Trade Blockade

The possibility of Donald Trump threatening punitive trade tariffs on the UK over some as-yet-unarticulated grievance is a serious possibility. After all, he has already threatened Denmark with such measures over their reluctance to sell Greenland to the US. As I wrote in a blog post on that subject ('How Denmark Should Handle Trump’s Trade Threat Over Greenland'), Denmark doesn’t rely heavily on US trade, rendering Trump’s threat a paper tiger. But how damaging would a similar situation be for the UK?

After looking into this, I think that while it would be a nuisance, it wouldn’t be a major one. Trump’s protectionist trade policies have targeted allies and competitors alike when he perceived US interests to be at stake. A hypothetical trade threat against the UK could be triggered by various issues—such as a UK alignment with EU regulatory standards, which he might interpret as undermining US trade interests.

The US is an important trading partner for the UK, with trade totaling around £200 billion annually. However, the UK’s economy is well-diversified, with strong trading relationships beyond the US. While trade with the US is significant, 42% of UK exports go to the EU, and another 58% to the rest of the world, including markets in Asia, the Commonwealth and the Pacific region. This broad range of trading partners reduces reliance on the US.

I think the UK could survive a US trade blockade as it did the COVID-19 pandemic, which saw the UK economy shrink by 9.3% in 2020, a higher percentage than that of the total contribution of US trade to the UK GDP which is 5.9%. Despite this, the UK weathered the storm and recovered quickly.

So a trade blockade from the US would not cause a nationwide shutdown of economic activity. Instead, its impact would be localised to certain sectors, such as financial services, pharmaceuticals and Scotch whisky exports. While these industries would experience some disruption, the rest of the economy would not.

Given this, my advice to the UK government is to remain confident, knowing that should Trump ever threaten a trade blockade, the potential damage would be minimal. 

Conspiracy Theories and Counter-conspiracies Surrounding the COVID-19 Pandemic

Disclaimer

The following article examines alternative theories about the COVID-19 pandemic purely for informational and analytical purposes. I do not subscribe to or endorse these theories. Indeed, I counter-argue each of them. The article is intended solely as an intellectual exercise to examine the perspectives that emerged during the pandemic, encouraging readers to critically evaluate claims and rely on credible scientific and public health sources. The content is not intended to promote misinformation or undermine the efforts of healthcare professionals, scientists and policymakers who worked tirelessly to address the crisis.

The COVID-19 pandemic was one of the most disruptive events of the 21st century, affecting how societies around the world lived, worked and interacted. For billions, it was a time of fear, uncertainty and loss. During this period, conspiracy theories emerged that attempted to cast doubt on the official narrative. This article explores three of these theories: The Exercise Theory, The Financial Motivation Theory and The Hijack theory, while considering counterpoints to these perspectives.

1. The Exercise Theory

The central idea of The Exercise Theory is that the virus itself was real but not as deadly as claimed, and that the pandemic was, in fact, a meticulously planned global observation exercise designed to study how individuals and societies react to extreme measures such as lockdowns, quarantines and social distancing. The idea was to collect data on mass behaviour, social compliance and the long-term impacts of these interventions, doing so without alerting the public to the fact that this was, in essence, a dress rehearsal for any genuinely deadly virus that would emerge in the future.

Proponents of this theory point out the seemingly contradictory actions of government officials and medical experts during the pandemic as evidence of this agenda. For example, when public health authorities in the UK were seen wearing masks in public spaces, only to remove them as soon as they were inside private buildings like 10 Downing Street, it raised questions about the authenticity of the pandemic’s perceived threat. Such behaviours, combined with inconsistent rules regarding social distancing and mask-wearing, led many to speculate that these actions were part of a controlled experiment and not a direct response to a genuine health crisis.

Critique of the Exercise Theory

While The Exercise Theory raises interesting points about inconsistencies and anomalous behaviours during the pandemic, it faces significant challenges. For example, the scale of coordination required to involve governments, health organisations and media outlets worldwide in such a covert operation is virtually unprecedented and highly implausible. The sheer number of people who would need to be complicit, combined with the difficulty of maintaining secrecy, casts doubt on the feasibility of such an exercise. Also, the substantial global death toll and severe economic disruptions undermine the notion that this was a controlled simulation, as these outcomes are unlikely to be acceptable risks for an orchestrated exercise.

2. The Financial Motivation Theory

While The Exercise Theory offers an “explanation” for why the pandemic unfolded in the way it did, The Financial Motivation Theory posits that the COVID-19 crisis was not a global observation exercise but rather a financially motivated scheme designed to benefit large companies in the fields of pharmaceuticals, medical supplies and tracking technologies.

In the months following the arrival of the pandemic, these companies stood to profit immensely from the pandemic. Vaccine developers like Pfizer and Moderna, manufacturers of personal protective equipment (PPE) and contact-tracing software, all capitalised (no pun intended) on the situation. And that these companies, along with governments and health organisations, could have engineered the crisis to maximise profits. That these profits were not merely a side effect of an unfortunate global health crisis, but rather part of a deliberate plan to boost the fortunes of these companies. The speed with which these companies received government subsidies and procurement contracts raised suspicions that they were well-prepared for such an event, as if they were waiting for the pandemic to happen.

Critique of the Financial Motivation Theory

The Financial Motivation Theory does highlights valid concerns about corporate profiteering during crises, but it overestimates the ability of corporations and governments to orchestrate such an event purely for profit. The massive global disruptions—ranging from collapsing economies to overwhelmed healthcare systems—were just too chaotic and damaging to align with a profit-driven agenda. And while some companies thrived, many industries, particularly small businesses and those sectors considered non-essential to the pandemic effort, suffered greatly. This suggests that the pandemic's economic outcomes were more a byproduct of a global emergency rather than a deliberate financial scheme.

3. The Hijack Theory

A third theory, The Hijack Theory, is a hybrid of the first two, and posits that the pandemic started out as a global observation exercise but was soon hijacked by the companies mentioned in The Financial Motivation Theory section above, so that they could financially profit from the situation. This would explain the inconsistencies in pandemic management, where certain interventions were implemented not solely for public health reasons but also to benefit these companies.

Critique of the Hijack Theory

The Hijack Theory presents a nuanced explanation by acknowledging the potential for opportunism during a global crisis. However, it assumes that these companies intentionally exploited the situation to an undue extent. While these companies undoubtedly profited, this was more likely a reflection of capitalism’s inevitable reach into all areas rather than an indication that these companies were Machiavellian. While lobbying and financial interests do exist, the chaotic and fragmented responses of many governments suggest a lack of a unified strategy, making it less likely that these companies could effectively "hijack" the situation on a global scale.

Ultimately, whether these theories hold merit or not, they reflect the profound impact of the pandemic on the ways in which individuals try to make sense of unprecedented events.

How Denmark Should Handle Trump’s Trade Threat Over Greenland

Donald Trump is once again pressuring Denmark to sell Greenland to him. In a phone call with Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen, he made it clear that he wanted to buy Greenland. When Frederiksen refused, he threatened that Denmark would face high tariffs, or worse, a trade boycott if it didn’t comply.

But such a threat if enacted would not be a major problem for Denmark. In fact, if I were Frederiksen, I’d call Trump’s bluff.

Denmark isn’t exactly a country that needs US trade to survive. It only makes $5.54 billion in US trade, which is around 1.4% of Denmark's GDP. In 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic put a real strain on its economy, but the country bounced back quicker than many others. The GDP dropped by about 3.6% (a larger percentage than the 1.4% it makes from US trade), but due to wise fiscal policies it was able to recover and build momentum for future growth.

The pandemic also pushed Denmark forward in other ways—such as embracing innovation, digital transformation and making industries more diverse. The service sector did take a hit, but adapted quickly, and industries like renewable energy, digital services and pharmaceuticals thrived.

So, if Denmark can survive a global health crisis and come out on top, it’s more than capable of handling a trade threat from a country like the US. The strategy for Denmark is clear: call Trump's bluff, knowing that his threats will have no effect on its economy.

Also, if Trump imposes sanctions, Denmark could tap into EU support, which would soften the blow. And with Denmark’s leadership in green technology and sustainable industries, it’s well-placed to attract investment from other parts of the world, further solidifying its place as a global leader in the future of energy and innovation.

By calling Trump’s bluff, Denmark will send a powerful message, signalling that small countries don’t need to buckle under pressure.

What’s in a Name?: The Art & Language Group and Conceptual Poetry

(Adapted from an article I wrote for The Argotist Online in 2013)

In his 2013 article, ‘Charmless and Interesting: What Conceptual Poetry Lacks and What It’s Got’ Robert Archambeau asks: ‘In what sense is pure conceptualism poetry, beyond the institutional sense of being distributed and considered through the channels by which poetry is distributed and considered?’ The answer to this question would clarify the relationship between conceptual poetry, conceptual art and the generally accepted definition of poetry as being specifically a literary art whereby language is utilised aesthetically and evocatively.

That some of the concerns and practices of conceptual poetry are not new in the world of conceptual art needs no extensive repetition here. However, it is interesting to note that in relation to conceptual poetry’s use of texts and lexical elements to comprise its works, a fairly recent historical precedent already exists. This can be seen in the theories, practices and works of 1960s conceptual artists such as Lawrence Weiner, Edward Ruscha and Robert Barry; and also in the theories, practices and works of the conceptual art group known as Art & Language, which was formed by Terry Atkinson, Michael Baldwin, Harold Hurrell and David Bainbridge in 1968. Others affiliated with this group, included Ian Burn, Michael Corris, Preston Heller, Graham Howard, Joseph Kosuth, Andrew Menard, Terry Smith, Philip Pilkington and David Rushton. These artists were among the first to produce art from textual and lexical sources.

The notable similarity between the theories of this group and those of conceptual poetry’s is that the group developed, extended and championed the conceptual theories that were initiated by artists such as Marcel Duchamp. The group also held the view that the practice of art should be systematically theoretical and entirely separated from concerns relating to craft or aesthetics. These and other ideas appeared in the group’s journal, Art-Language, the first issue of which appeared in 1969.

A direct parallel with the works of these artists and those produced by conceptual poets is not my intention here. There will be differences in scale (both physical and theoretical) and presentation between them; suffice to say, that the common element they share is that of a conceptual approach to their works, and as such, this leads us back to Archambeau’s question (‘In what sense is pure conceptualism poetry, beyond the institutional sense of being distributed and considered through the channels by which poetry is distributed and considered?’), and also one that I would like to ask. If it is at all possible to agree that both the Art & Language group and conceptual poetry share similar theoretical stances and working practices, then in what sense is the work produced by conceptual poetry more suited to be called poetry than that of the Art & Language group?

In one of the two Facebook discussions I took part in a few years ago about Archambeau’s question, it was mentioned by someone that the term “poetry” was merely an honorific one, conferred by the academy on what it deemed was poetry: the logical extension of this being that if the academy should deem, for instance, a text-book to be poetry then it would have to be accepted that a text-book was, indeed, poetry. In response to this, someone else mentioned that the approach of the literary theorist Roman Jakobson was more reasonable, in that Jakobson saw poetry as marked by specific functions in language rather than by an arbitrary redesignation by the academy of general texts. I agreed with the latter.

In light of this, it seems to me that given that there is no significant difference between the work of the Art & Language group and that of conceptual poetry, for the work of the latter to be designated as poetry whilst that of the former is not, seems a peculiarly inconsistent and whimsical act on the part of the academy. It seems to me, that neither the Art & Language group nor conceptual poetry can accurately be described as producing works of poetry, given that they are both operating from within a conceptual art aesthetic and theoretical stance.

A Journey Through Christianity and Beyond

For many years, I identified as a Christian. It wasn’t just a label—it influenced how I viewed the world, formed my values and approached life. But over time, I began to re-evaluate my beliefs, and I eventually stopped identifying with Christianity. Here’s why.

It started with contemplative prayer. I practised it regularly for months and noticed it produced a sense of calm and connection that felt very familiar. Years earlier, I’d experienced exactly the same thing when practising Eastern meditation. This raised a question: If contemplative prayer and meditation produce identical effects, are they really so different? Could it be that contemplative prayer isn’t uniquely Christian at all?

Curious, I began looking into its origins. I learned that contemplative prayer has its roots in the practices of the Desert Fathers of 3rd-century Egypt. While there’s no direct evidence linking their practices to Eastern meditation, cultural exchange via trade routes like the Silk Road makes it plausible that the ideas travelled. If contemplation is a universal human practice, rather than something unique to Christianity, its effects wouldn’t depend on theology. They’d simply be the natural outcome of the practice itself, regardless of the label we attach to it.

This line of questioning opened the door to deeper doubts. I already knew that some concepts in Christianity—like the idea of the “Logos” in John’s Gospel—were borrowed from Greek philosophy. But I’d always thought of these as minor adjustments. What I hadn’t realised was how extensively Hellenistic ideas shaped Christianity.

For example, the concept of the immortal soul, central to Christian theology, is essentially Platonic. Traditional Judaism didn’t have this view; instead, the soul and body were seen as inseparable, ceasing at death until a future resurrection. Christianity adopted a dualistic view of body and soul from Greek philosophy, which shifted its framework significantly.

This raised a serious question for me: If Christianity is a blend of Judaic and Hellenistic ideas, can it claim to be an authentic continuation of Jesus’ teachings? Or is it something else entirely?

This led me to explore the possibility of even broader influences. Some scholars argue that Greek thought itself was shaped by Eastern philosophies, particularly those of the Vedanta tradition in Hinduism. If that’s true, then Christianity’s intellectual roots might extend much further east than we usually consider.

I also came across the theory that Jesus could have encountered Buddhist teachings during his so-called “lost years”. While there’s no definitive evidence that he travelled to regions like India, the spread of Buddhism via trade routes brought these ideas much closer to Judea than I’d previously imagined. The parallels between Jesus’ teachings and Buddhist principles—like compassion, detachment and a focus on inner transformation—are striking.

Gradually, I came to see Christianity not as the one true path to God, but as one of many ways humanity has tried to articulate the divine. Religion, I now believe, is shaped more by culture and history than by absolute truth. And if there is a spiritual truth, it likely exists beyond the limits of any one theology.

There’s a saying I’ve come to appreciate: “If you need words and doctrines to define the truth, then you’re probably not describing truth at all”. That, for me, captures the heart of why I moved on from Christianity. Language and theology create frameworks, but the divine is too vast to fit into them.

Even Jesus seemed to understand this. His teachings were practical, focused on moral living and direct connection with God, rather than rigid systems of belief. Yet, as Christianity developed, it became a Religion (with a capital “R”), full of doctrines, creeds and institutional structures.

People seem to have a natural tendency to organise themselves into groups and express spirituality collectively. That’s fine for those who find meaning in it, but for me, faith has become something more personal—an individual search for the divine that doesn’t rely on one tradition.

I haven’t rejected God. If anything, I feel a stronger connection now than I ever did as a Christian. I’ve simply let go of the need to define or confine that connection within a particular framework. The divine, I believe, is beyond labels, beyond systems and present everywhere.

A Complete Unknown: A Believable Rock Film Biography

The Bob Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown, directed by James Mangold, captures Dylan's rapid rise to fame during the 1960s folk movement with a nuance and authenticity seldom seen in rock film biographies.

The film begins in 1961, with Dylan’s arrival in New York City as an eager young singer hoping to meet his idol, Woody Guthrie, who is hospitalised due to Huntington's disease—a condition that causes progressive deterioration in physical and cognitive functions. Dylan does meet Guthrie, and the story concludes with his polarising 1965 Newport Folk Festival performance. The film ends on a poignant note with Dylan’s touching, dialogue-free farewell to Guthrie.

Timothée Chalamet’s portrayal of Dylan is a revelation, and he captures his distinctive vocal intonations and idiosyncratic body movements and hand mannerisms with uncanny precision—especially once Dylan is preparing to “go electric” and becomes “hip”. Chalamet’s Dylan singing voice is also accurate, capturing Dylan’s phrasing and vocal quirks. I have never seen a performance by an actor playing a famous person before that has made me forget that they are not that person in actuality—Chalamet achieves this.

Equally impressive is Monica Barbaro, who portrays Joan Baez, a significant person in Dylan’s life and career during this period. While she physically doesn’t look like Baez, she captures her speaking voice and, to a great extent, her singing voice also.

Another notable performance is Edward Norton’s as Pete Seeger. Though not as tall in stature as Seeger was, he captures his sing-song-like speaking voice, and his warmth, integrity, humility and charm. His portrayal adds depth to the story, particularly in scenes where Seeger’s frustrations with Dylan’s evolving musical style come to the fore. It is refreshing to see Norton in such a role, as he has often played complex, morally ambiguous or unlikable characters in the past.

Another good performance is given by Elle Fanning, who plays Sylvie Russo, based on Dylan’s real-life girlfriend during this period, Suze Rotolo. While her portrayal is persuasive, I couldn’t help but wonder why the character wasn’t directly named Suze Rotolo. It’s a minor issue, but one worth noting.

The only performance that felt slightly misaligned, due solely to a script shortcoming, was Dan Fogler’s portrayal of Albert Grossman. For me, the role was underwritten, as if the director were marginalising Grossman’s pivotal role in Dylan’s career.

All in all, I was pleasantly surprised, as I was expecting the film, like most rock film biographies, to lack authenticity or fail to capture the Zeitgeist of the period they are set in.

My only complaint is that it left out a whole chunk of Dylan’s life in Greenwich Village. There was no mention of Dave Van Ronk or the other folk venue performers and friends he had there. For me, the most interesting part of Dylan’s life in Greenwich Village was precisely his involvement and interactions with the other folk-singers there.

Why Isn’t There an Easier Way to Convert Old VHS Tapes to Digital?

I thought I’d write a blog post about something that has been bothering me for nearly 20 years now, namely the impossibility of finding an all-in-one standalone VHS tape to digital converter to convert all the old VHS tapes I made when I was on a BTEC film and video production course in the late 1980s. These tapes comprise of various course projects, fly-on-the-wall type footage of course life, and a show reel of the videos I made there. It would be nice to have these preserved digitally and playable. There are various businesses that do convert VHS tapes to digital but they charge around £35 per tape—and I have over 20 tapes, each lasting over two hours long

Around 15 years ago there was, indeed, an all-in-one standalone VHS tape to digital converter called ION VCR 2. It combined both a VHS deck and a monitor in a single compact device, which could convert VHS tapes to digital without the need for connection to external equipment, such as now obsolete VHS recorders and VHS camcorders, and was only £150. It has been discontinued for some inexplicable reason, so now if you want to convert VHS tapes you need the following ridiculous setup:

A VHS recorder or VHS camcorder (if you can even find these now).

A video capture device.

A computer to connect everything to.

Cables to connect it all.

The ION VCR 2 (or a similar all-in-one device) is sorely missed and desperately needed. If you’re in the same boat as me, leave comments on YouTube videos and in forums that are about VHS tape to digital conversion, and spread the word. Perhaps if enough people make a fuss about this, a company will see the demand and bring a product like this back into production.

Precious memories shouldn't be this hard to preserve! 

A Day In Liverpool in 1929 Film

Here is a 1929 film of Liverpool city centre that's been enhanced to look more modern. It gives a vivid sense of how people walked and moved back then. We often think of people from over 100 years ago, as seen in old photos, as somehow "other-worldly"—almost "spooky". But this film shows them as just like us, as of course they were all along. 

Courtesy of the admin of the Facebook group "The Scouse Back Kitchen Social Club".