The case for curiosity

In the wake of AI that isn't AI

Boredom Books is a tiny bookstore located in the Foster-Powell neighborhood in Portland. The passion project started a few years ago tucked into a side-street meeting hall, a sole clapboard the only signage for what was then Word Virus Books. We lived in the hood for over two years before even noticing it. When a barbershop moved a few blocks west, the bookstore took over the more easily findable location.

Like many Portland business owners, marketing doesn’t seem to be their forte. At some point, Word Virus became Boredom; I’m not sure if it’s the same ownership or just a name change, as Word Virus has reopened in SW Portland. The store is generally the same. From the looks of it, Boredom was previously located in Alberta.

Regardless, Portland book culture supports numerous indie bookstores, one of the many reasons I love this city.

Dax-Devlon Ross visited last weekend. He stopped by en route to a speaking engagement in San Francisco, as well as to record the audiobook for his new novel, The Memory Palace. After the Sunday recording session, we went out for air and walked to Boredom. The type of store where you don’t go in looking for anything, but rather see what you discover, which, like a great curated record shop, is my favorite kind.

I left holding three books.

I’ve read most of Colum McCann’s novels, my favorites being Zoli and Let the Great World Spin. I’d yet to pick up his 2020 book, Apeirogon, which was on hand for $9. Score.

Then I discovered two books I had never heard of. The first was Defending Science, Within Reason by the philosopher Susan Haack. The book explores the value and limitations of the scientific method—a valuable resource for my work. $8. Sold.

Then I stumbled into The Cooking Gene: A Journey Through African American Culinary History in the Old South by culinary historian Michael W Twitty. I immediately thought of the wonderful Netflix series, High on the Hog. Turns out Twitty was featured in the series, which is hosted by Stephen Satterfield and based on Jessica B Harris’s book. Given how little I know about the origins of southern cooking, curiosity kicked in. For $8, I’ll soon know more.

My favorite aspect of used bookstores: walking in with no expectations, leaving in excitement that I’m about to be educated. Which is why I have low tolerance for online book shopping. Sure, I use Biblio and Bookshop when seeking out specific titles. The art of discovery is often more rewarding.

There’s a cost: I’m not a specialist in any field because I want to know a little about a lot. Books have allowed me that pursuit more than any other medium.

I reflect on my love of bookstores often when scrolling online. I’m amazed by how uncurious people can be when confronted with topics they don’t understand. The latest example concerns the murders by ICE in Minneapolis. In this case, the lack of curiosity isn’t just on the right, because last Wednesday a lot of well-meaning people got fooled by AI that wasn’t actually AI.

Which speaks to a larger point: when faced with something you know little about, do you immediately judge and react, or step back and think, I want to take a moment and learn about this before speaking up?

Tragically, curiosity is often lost in online discourses.

Curiosity has been a guiding principle throughout my life. In college, I was enamored with religion and mythologies, not because I believed in any of them, but because I’m fascinated with the sort of brain that can invent such a vast array of storytelling. While I can’t go toe to toe with a biblical scholar, I can engage with most anyone of any faith because I likely know a little about it.

Spending over a decade as a world music journalist means I can talk to most people from most places about their homeland’s music. Curiosity has served me well as it’s broken the ice with many people from many places. Being able to discuss something dear to people lets everyone drop their guard. And I credit all of this with reading.

Even in these tiny boxes that fill in for reality for many of us, reading remain essential. I recently recorded a few videos and a Conspirituality episode about MAHA’s silence during the ICE murders, suggesting that MAHA influencers who voted for Trump in order to install Kennedy at HHS need to own up to their vote. Yet many pretend health isn’t political, which is obvious bullshit.

A few jumped in to defend ICE, however. Alex Clark, who claims to “host MAHA’s biggest podcast,” posted:

Kony? Seriously? Digging for that one.

The next day she followed it up with:

Mallory DeMille posted these screenshots on Threads, captioning the latter with: Update she’s still a piece of shit. True, but also, what a poverty of imagination. No part of her wants to “do the research” into what actually happened. This is why we often cite MAGA and MAHA as cults: no matter what occurred, you’re going to go with the narrative handed down to you.

One example of a lack of curiosity. Here’s another.

Last Wednesday a video appeared all over the media showing Alex Pretti kicking an ICE vehicle and breaking a taillight 11 days before he was murdered by ICE thugs. Social media was dominated by people claiming the video to be AI. People were trashing news organizations for sharing it. The right expectedly loved it, as to them it justified his murder—a bonkers way of thinking but tragically in alignment with their propaganda.

Seeing well-meaning people lash out at CNN, the NY Times, and others for sharing an AI video was painful considering the video is not AI. Some people actually shared a BBC article claiming the video was debunked when the article didn’t say that. At the time, they had proven it was him with 97% certainty. Others lashed out at a CNN article when the third paragraph stated that Pretti’s family confirmed the video is real. They tehn said Pretti’s parents are senile and were likely fooled by AI as well.

Food Science Babe posted one of the most clearheaded thoughts during this time:

While no media organization had claimed 100% certainty by this point, she qualifies her statement and pushes back on the notion that Pretti kicking in a taillight is justification for being murdered. You can disagree with media organizations publishing it in the first place, or the framing they used when doing so. But to rush ahead and state with certainty it’s AI because you didn’t want it to be true is really dangerous during a time when we live under an administration we know is lying to us on a daily basis.

We’re not prepared for how AI is going to change us. We’re still so early with this technology being used broadly to create videos, audios, entire podcasts, fake new clips, fake influencers, as I covered two weeks ago. The tech is getting exponentially better every week. We’ll all be fooled at some point. A few have made their way into my feed that I first thought real. Yes, I had the impulse to immediately reshare and comment. I didn’t, and I’m glad for that.

Because curiosity is a skill that we can apply broadly. It’s not only useful when you come across something you want to learn about. Curiosity is essential when presented with information that contradicts everything you believe and, instead of lashing out, stepping back and thinking, I wonder why that is, why that person said that.

I’ve been criticized for citing certain figures even when I don’t agree with them. I regularly consume media from sources I don’t personally agree with, but want to know what they’re thinking and how they came to think like that. Completely writing off someone without listening creates another poverty, that of knowledge. I can disagree with someone, but if I know how they reached that conclusion, that only strengthens my argument. Or, as sometimes happens, I learn something new along the way. Sometimes I even change my mind, which I thought was a healthy endeavor.

The next time you’re about to react to something, step back and question the source. Is this a trustworthy person? Do I even know who it is? Did I read the article before commenting on it?

Such practices require a little curiosity and a lot of patience. Of all the tools at our disposal right now, curiosity remains one of the most powerful.