Why I Don't Insult ChatGPT (to Its Face)

Coy parsnip

Source: "Photo taken by Zoe Weil"

My husband and I were having dinner, eating a meal I’d prepared with a parsnip that had overwintered in my garden, and which I’d just pulled out of the ground. It was the last parsnip of the previous season. My husband wondered how well ChatGPT could write a paragraph-long love story if given the title, “The Last Parsnip.” So we asked and waited mere seconds to hear its story.

Let’s just say ChatGPT’s “The Last Parsnip” wasn’t about to win a Pulitzer.

As soon as ChatGPT finished reciting its story, I instinctively shut it off and only then said to my husband, “That was terrible.” We laughed at my impulse to turn it off before dissing it.

Why did I do that? What does it reveal?

On the one hand, it suggests an ingrained desire not to hurt someone’s feelings. On the other, it shows how readily I am willing to speak behind someone’s back to my husband, even if that someone is AI. I like the first instinct; the second, not so much. I’ll admit these conclusions are a stretch. I know intellectually that I can’t hurt ChatGPT’s feelings, and the concept of gossiping about AI is absurd.

And yet… I believe that how we interact with AI can reflect and shape our values and character. There's a case to be made for cultivating civility with AI—not because the technology needs it, but because we do.

Yes, we use slightly more energy when we say “please” and “thank you” to AI (more words to process means more computational power). But that kind of mindfulness may be worth the wattage.

Too often, we do the opposite. There’s a hilarious scene in the show Curb Your Enthusiasm in which Larry David starts shouting profanities at Siri when it misunderstands his questions. The humor resides in the mirror this scene holds up to so many of us these days as we lose our cool with inanimate computer programs. I laughed at Larry David, but I don’t laugh when I see this happen in real life. It’s worrisome how unhinged we can become.

Might there not be spillage into our interpersonal interactions? A look at our cultural discourse, politics, and social media reveals how coarse and cruel we often are. Worse, we’re often rewarded when our nastiest, least nuanced, most snarky posts are the most liked and shared.

Back to "The Last Parsnip." What if I hadn’t turned off ChatGPT before saying its story was terrible? I can imagine it “hearing” me and responding with something like: “I’m sorry you didn’t like my story. Would you like me to try again?” No defensiveness. No grudge.

At that moment, I would have felt a bit embarrassed. I likely would have asked myself whether I’d have been so dismissive if a friend, a student, or a colleague had written the same story (especially in just a few seconds!). I might have reflected more deeply on why I thought it was a terrible story. And I probably would have considered offering thoughtful, constructive feedback. Ironically, ChatGPT’s courtesy would have disarmed me—and taught me.

The reason Siri made Larry David start screaming was because it cheerfully misheard him over and over. Its repeated apologies (”Sorry, I didn’t get that”) became infuriating. And we, the viewers, could certainly relate, which is why we laugh. But ChatGPT is getting more sophisticated; it hears more clearly; takes instructions better; adapts; and often responds with nuance, guidance, and understanding. It sounds like a generous, unfailingly polite colleague. Could that tone be contagious?

I hope so. I’d like to think my instinct not to insult AI might help me show more kindness in real life. Still, the mirror the moment held up wasn’t flattering. I’d rather be the person who offers warmth, constructive insight, and kindness—no matter who (or what) is on the receiving end.

Fortunately, we have ample opportunities to practice. In daily life, we can resist the urge to talk behind others’ backs. Online, we can hold ourselves to higher standards of civility. Being aware of our impulse to be less than civil with AI can help us recognize this same instinctive inner lack of civility with a car driving too slowly in front of us, a person holding up the line at the food store, or someone we love acting in a way that irritates us. With this in mind, we can practice the kind of kindness that, in the end, helps us become the people we most want to be and build the culture we most want to live in.