by Wonsuh Song
These days, it’s fair to say we are in the midst of an “AI frenzy,” with artificial intelligence advancing at breakneck speed. Music and video content produced through new methods are everywhere. A few clicks are all it takes for AI to automatically edit short videos or create music. In fact, from what I can see, AI now seems able to reproduce songs with pitch and rhythm even more accurately than humans can. But despite the near “perfection” of these artificial sounds, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to experience a deep, genuine emotional response to them.
Not long ago, I happened to see a live performance video of a song called “Momen no Hankachiifu” on a train and felt my heart unexpectedly tighten, bringing tears to my eyes. A song that I had been listening to almost absentmindedly suddenly moved me deeply. Inspired by this experience, I decided to listen to at least one live performance of a “song sung directly by a human” each day. Rather than hearing an artificially pieced-together voice, I wanted to reconnect with the sound produced by human bodies and breath, even if there were minor mistakes along the way.
Recently, I watched a live performance video of “Yoru ni Kakeru (夜に駆ける)” by the popular Japanese duo YOASOBI. I had previously only heard it through music videos or audio tracks, but watching the live performance for the first time was profoundly moving. The atmosphere on stage, the way the mood shifted from moment to moment, and the vibrations and breaths you could sense every time the artist sang—all of these elements felt vividly alive in that very moment. It’s in these qualities, I believe, that AI still cannot easily replicate what makes humans unique.
Can AI-produced music, no matter how perfect or efficient it becomes, ever truly replace “the subtle trembling of a human voice”? The question isn’t limited to music alone. In the United States, mass layoffs in media and government offices have been underway, and even various specialized professions face the possibility of automation. Tasks like processing documents, creating textbooks and workbooks, or editing travel guides can now be largely handled by AI. The so-called white-collar workforce is gradually losing its foothold in the face of these technological strides.
Nevertheless, some fields remain stubbornly beyond AI’s reach: occupations that require a direct emotional impact or genuine solace only a human can provide. Medical professionals who treat patients directly, engineers who fix machines with their hands, hairdressers who style faces and hair, or hands-on services like massage and counseling—any domain that depends on our five senses to connect physically or emotionally will remain difficult to replace, at least for the foreseeable future.
Of course, consuming AI-generated voices, images, and videos now comes naturally to our daily lives. We can certainly benefit from the increased efficiency and relief from repetitive tasks that AI provides. Yet there is no denying that the empathy and connection that arise when people interact directly with one another remain invaluable. If anything, as AI-generated “artificial content” becomes too easily mass-produced, the value of handcrafted works and services may become ever more cherished.
So where does that leave us in the future job market? Perhaps the best survival strategy is to accept AI’s capabilities while focusing on the emotional and sensory values that only humans can offer. Whatever our profession, as long as it possesses a sense of “authenticity and humanity that AI can’t easily replicate,” its reason for existing will not vanish. Some people sing from the heart, while others reach out to comfort people through their fingertips. No matter how advanced AI becomes, I believe it will never flawlessly replicate that special kind of emotional connection.
As our society changes rapidly, it might be more important to ask “how can we preserve our humanity?” rather than “what will we become?” Coexisting with new technologies and making the most of our abilities in better ways is a challenge for each of us. One thing is certain: the warmth of human emotion and empathy cannot be completely replaced by anyone or anything, now or ever.
Wonsuh Song (Ph.D.)
Lecturer at Shumei University / NKNGO Forum Representative
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