Future of Blogging

AI Responses: Humanity Versus The Machine

I was so struck and overwhelmed by the wisdom and kindness of the responses to my last post, AI and the Future of Roaringwater Journal, that I decided to write a follow up. Then, I promise, I will let this matter drop and go back to my usual diet of history and archaeology  and art and flowers and West Cork.

First of all thank you to everyone who took the time to respond – it was heartening and heartwarming to see your thoughtful and encouraging comments, both on the blog and on the Facebook Page. My blog readership is down, at this point about 20% over this time last year. This seems to be about average for what many are reporting, although some have seen far steeper declines. Your comments reminded me that to look at this in terms of readership stats is missing the point – what you told me is that each time a post is read, the reader and I are making a human connection. This was brought home to me at a function last night where I met a woman who told me that although she never comments, Roaringwater Journal has been a ‘lifeline’ for her both during Covid and in times away from West Cork. It was also underscored by the fact that one of the comments was from a high school teacher in Canada that I taught in elementary school in the far north of Canada in the early 1980s! (Hello, Shannon!)

The second theme that emerged takes shape around the concept of a Voice – a real, human voice, with opinions and insight and well-researched content and occasional humour and its own quirky personality. No content generated by a chatbot, you said, can equate to reading something that a human has written with creativity, clarity, passion and curiosity. And you are right – I love what Paddy Tobin said about the essay on West Cork History written by ChatGPT

as soon as I began to read the AI generated text, you were gone, absent. I suppose had I not read your blogs over time this would not have registered. It would be a reasonably interesting if bland presentation of facts but when you write there is opinion, interpretation, reaction, feeling…style and personality

Several of you share my worry in a general sense and resent the intrusion of AI into our daily lives, although as Francis observed, the genie’s out of the bottle now and there’ll be no getting it back in again  As I have been reading a little more about what’s happening, there is a glimmer of hope – it has become obvious very quickly that the internet is an ecosystem with a delicate balancing act. If the chatbots and AI search engines cut traffic to writers and publishers, (who, in turn cease to write and publish) they are ultimately undermining what make the internet actually work – that is, without content creators there is no longer information to harvest. Way back in 2016 we already were expressing this in our post Tech is Cool and Content is King. Some are advocating a system of monetary compensation for scraping content. While that might suit some creators, those whose livelihoods depend on their writing, it does nothing for those of us who are motivated not by commercial considerations but by the sharing of stories and interests with our readers. I can’t help feeling too that it just turns writers into employees or ‘suppliers’ for the large AI companies.

Thank you for the encouragement to explore other options. I’ve looked into Substack and I don’t think it’s the answer for me for a number of reasons. That could be another post so I will leave it there. Regarding writing a book – yes, I will give this serious consideration (after I finish the one I am currently writing about George Walsh), but perhaps some of you don’t realise that the book, which seems like it has the protection of being a physical entity, is also in danger from the exact same issue. In recent years, major AI companies have admitted or been revealed to have used vast libraries of published books (usually without permission or compensation) to train their models. This includes both e-books and scanned print books. Just because something exists in a printed form does not mean it is safe from digital scraping. If you want to check out whether your favourite book has been scraped, do a search in The Atlantic database. I only have my name on the spine of one book – a now very-outdated and somewhat turgid volume of academic essays co-edited with a professor from the University of British Columbia. I found it in that database.

Finally, you reminded me that I must hang onto why I do this, week after week and so I have asked myself that question. Here’s my answer – I write this blog for a whole host of reasons. I do it for me, and I do it for Robert so that his wonderful lyrical writing and unique ruminations on all kinds of subjects will be available for as long as the blog is alive. I do it as a creative outlet and to give my life a sense of purpose. I do it to give back to the wonderful West Cork community that embraced us and supported us when we moved here in 2012. I do it to get down in writing, for the enjoyment and edification of myself and others what makes West Cork the rich and fascinating environment we have discovered here. I do it to celebrate the joy of researching the wide and varied history, archaeology, culture and environment of this special part of the world. I do it to give a shape and discipline to my week. I do it because it gets me out amuigh féin spéir, scrambling over stone walls, lying in bogs, exploring ruins, running from bulls, sometimes alone but often with Amanda and Peter of Holy Wells of Cork and Kerry. I do it because it has led me into subjects and places about which I knew nothing but which have become all-consuming interests – wildflowers and stained glass for example. I do it because it has become my life and my pastime and my passion. I do it because I have readers like you, all over the world, who let me know my words do not go into a void. I do it because.

AI and the Future of Roaringwater Journal

AI is a double-edged sword and the future for Roaringwater Journal, and blogs like it, is looking grim.

First, the not-so-bad news.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I have been exploring various AI tools – chatbots and search engines and research tools like NotebookLM. My first foray was when I asked ChatGPT to write an 800 word essay on the history of West Cork. Although a cursory read left an impression that was persuasive, in fact it was riddled with errors. That was in 2023. Today I asked it to do the same again and I append the results below. MUCH better and in fact this time very accurate. 

I’ve also used image-generation software – I had fun with a St Brigid Post a while back – the results, although amusing, were a mixed bag – I’d say this aspect of AI has a lot of catching up to do. 

I also used Perplexity as a research assistant on my recent series (2 down, 1 to go) on the St Brendan book I purchased, which was written in German.

Finally, I used NotebookLM to keep track of all my references when I did the series on Charles Vallancey. NotebookLM is an excellent research tool which uses the sources you upload yourself. I had 15 different sources for this series, mostly lengthy academic articles, and I was able to use NotebookLM to tease out threads across the articles, each statement referenced back to its source.

Now for the other side of the coin.

When you did a Google search in the past, it came up with a list of Blue Links – clicking on a link brought you to the source website. Search engines drove a lot of traffic to our website.

If you do a search now, the first thing you are likely to see is what’s called an AI Overview. Although there are still links (for now) to Roaringwater Journal and other local sites, many people just read the AI Overview and go no further. If you use ChatGPT the information will simply be served up to you in a condensed form, with no link to sources or to further information.

Perplexity includes links in the form of tiny numbers at the end of paragraphs which you may or may not notice or click on. Claude does something similar but seems to get most of its information from Wikipedia.

The AI companies have drag-netted the internet to train their Large Language Models (LLMs). Where information is scraped from Roaringwater Journal, it has happened without my knowledge or consent. This was not a problem in the past – Google gathered the information, but drove the searcher back to Roaringwater Journal – ‘click on this blue link for more information.’ Now, all my hard work and careful research is simply fodder for huge search engines who present it as if it’s their own. This is even more of an issue for bloggers who rely on traffic to generate income (I do not). 

While traffic to the Journal (people landing on pages and actually reading what we have written) is a significant incentive to keep at it, it’s not the be-all-and-end-all for me, as I have all kind of other motivations for writing it. However, if the trend continues downwards, I can see myself and others taking stock at some point and wondering whether all our hard work is simply now providing content to enrich a bunch of tech-bro gazillionaires. 

The ultimate irony? My story image was generated by ChatGPT!

I would value your comments.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The History of West Cork: A Story of Resilience, Rebellion, and Rich Culture

West Cork, the southwestern region of County Cork in Ireland, is a landscape of rugged coastlines, rolling hills, ancient stone forts, and vibrant villages. Though often celebrated today for its natural beauty and bohemian charm, West Cork’s history is layered with tales of prehistoric settlers, Gaelic chieftains, Norman invaders, rebellions, famines, and a profound cultural resilience that still defines the area. The history of West Cork is, in many ways, a microcosm of Ireland’s wider historical experience—marked by both hardship and heroism.

Prehistoric and Early Settlements

The earliest traces of human habitation in West Cork date back over 6,000 years, to the Neolithic period. Megalithic tombs, stone circles, and standing stones—such as those found in Drombeg near Glandore—attest to the ritual and communal life of these early settlers. The Bronze Age (c. 2500–500 BCE) and Iron Age (c. 500 BCE–400 CE) left their mark in the form of wedge tombs, fulacht fiadh (ancient cooking sites), and ring forts, which still dot the countryside.

By the early medieval period, West Cork was part of the powerful kingdom of the Eóganachta, a Gaelic dynasty that ruled much of southern Ireland. The area was divided among local chieftains, with clans such as the O’Driscolls, O’Mahonys, and O’Donovans holding sway. These families established fortified homes and controlled trade routes, especially around the coast. The influence of Christianity also spread during this period, and monastic sites such as Timoleague Abbey were founded, becoming centers of learning and religious life.

Viking and Norman Incursions

Beginning in the late 8th century, Viking raiders arrived along Ireland’s coasts, including the bays and inlets of West Cork. Though initially destructive, the Vikings eventually integrated into Irish society, intermarrying and establishing trading posts.

In the late 12th century, the Anglo-Normans began their invasion of Ireland. West Cork, with its remote and rugged terrain, resisted complete conquest for some time, but eventually Norman influence took root. Towns such as Bandon and Kinsale (just on the border of what is traditionally considered West Cork) grew under Norman control. These new settlers introduced stone castles, new agricultural practices, and English legal structures, which often clashed with traditional Gaelic customs.

The Tudor Reconquest and the Flight of the Earls

The 16th century saw the English Crown intensify its efforts to control Ireland. West Cork became embroiled in the resistance movements of local Gaelic lords. One of the most notable figures of this period was Donal Cam O’Sullivan Beare, chieftain of the O’Sullivan clan. After the defeat of Irish forces at the Battle of Kinsale in 1601—a key turning point in Irish history—O’Sullivan Beare led his people on a harrowing 500-kilometer march to Leitrim, seeking sanctuary. Only a handful survived. This event symbolized the collapse of the old Gaelic order and the increasing dominance of English rule.

Following the Nine Years’ War and the “Flight of the Earls” in 1607, many Gaelic lords fled Ireland, paving the way for the Plantation of Ulster and further colonization. In West Cork, land was confiscated from Irish families and given to English settlers loyal to the Crown. This deepened divisions and planted the seeds for centuries of unrest.

18th and 19th Century: Rebellion and Famine

By the 18th century, West Cork had developed a mixed population of Protestant landowners and Catholic tenant farmers. Tensions over land and religious discrimination simmered, culminating in episodes of violence such as the Whiteboy movements—agrarian protests against unfair rents and evictions.

The 1798 Rebellion, inspired by revolutionary ideals from America and France, saw some activity in West Cork, though it was largely suppressed by British forces. Still, the spirit of resistance remained alive.

The most devastating period in West Cork’s history came with the Great Famine (1845–1852). The failure of the potato crop, coupled with British government inaction, led to mass starvation, disease, and emigration. Skibbereen, one of the region’s principal towns, became infamous for the horror it witnessed during the Famine—its name now synonymous with suffering. Over 8,000 people died in the town alone, and many more fled aboard “coffin ships” bound for America, Canada, and Australia.

Twentieth Century: War, Revolution, and Renewal

West Cork played a significant role in the Irish War of Independence (1919–1921). The region was a hotbed of IRA activity, led by figures like Tom Barry and Michael Collins, the latter born in Clonakilty. Notable events included the Kilmichael Ambush, where IRA volunteers killed 17 members of the British Auxiliary Division. These actions helped push the British government toward negotiating the Anglo-Irish Treaty.

The subsequent Civil War (1922–1923) divided communities, including those in West Cork. Collins himself was assassinated at Béal na Bláth in 1922 by anti-Treaty forces, marking one of the most traumatic events in modern Irish history.

Modern West Cork: Culture, Community, and Creativity

In the post-independence era, West Cork remained primarily agricultural, though economic struggles persisted well into the 20th century. By the 1970s and 80s, however, the area began to attract artists, writers, and European settlers drawn to its wild beauty and affordability. This influx helped revitalize the region’s cultural life.

Today, West Cork is known for its lively arts scene, local food movement, and commitment to community sustainability. Towns like Bantry, Skibbereen, and Ballydehob host festivals, markets, and environmental initiatives, while smaller villages retain a sense of timeless rural life.

Though its history has often been marked by hardship, conflict, and change, West Cork has preserved a deep sense of identity. Its landscape holds the memory of centuries—of castles and cairns, abbeys and ambushes—and its people continue to reflect the tenacity, independence, and creativity that have long defined this corner of Ireland.