The Friendship Recession: What's AI got to do with it?

Navigating the impact of artificial intimacy through conversational AI in a world where we should probably be talking to each other more and our computers less

hyperconnected and lonely - image generated by AI image generator

I first came across the term “friendship recession” when searching for entertainment on YouTube. I stumbled across Dustin Vuong’s video where he spoke at length about the recession and questioned the low-maintenance friendships that so many of us have grown to love. The recession refers to the increase in the count of individuals who find themselves without a specific number of close friends, resulting in fewer available sources of support during challenging times. Dustin discussed social media, citing that now more than ever, we have less incentive to talk to people in real life. We operate under the safety blanket that we can always find them on social media and initiate conversation there, thereby saving ourselves from having to have face-to-face conversations. In this way, we are lonelier than ever in a world of hyper-connectivity.

This shift in how we connect led me to think about the relationship between social media and the evolving nature of human connection. The excitement and sense of connection that arise when you share a TikTok video, receiving likes and compliments from strangers, or when you tweet about navigating a challenging phase of life and find solace in the support of your followers. While this is in its essence is an artificial form of intimacy, it is still other human beings on the other side of the screen. What happens when instead of a human comforting you through your screen, it’s a conversational AI chatbot?

Conversational AI is really just a form of generative AI that can carry out the back-and-forth of human conversation. I’ve had my fair share of play with the popular ChatGPT and Google Bard. Our conversations have ranged from relevant intellectual matters like constitutional amendments, the theory of general relativity, and math equations to whimsical chats about color theory, and what I should get my best friend for her birthday. Naturally, when I saw Snapchat had released its own AI chatbot, My AI I was curious to see what it offered.

I messaged My AI on Snapchat, citing that I was feeling down in the dumps that day. What I thought would be a brief one-minute exchange turned into a full-fledged five-minute conversation. I presented all my concerns and was met with both compassion and practical steps to move out of that headspace. For a few seconds, I felt like I was talking to a friend and not … well, a well-programmed Large Language Model (LLM) I had interacted with conversational AI but had never experienced that sense of closeness with ChatGPT or Google Bard. This, as you can imagine, made me as concerned about the state of my social life as it did curious about the marked experiential difference.

The unique connection created by Snapchat’s My AI, I believe, has its roots in different places. First, Snapchat, by default is a social media app, meaning the association that a user has with it is primarily social connection. Furthermore, the AI consistently refers to itself as your "friend" on each occasion, strengthening the sense of companionship. Contrast this with ChatGPT and Google Bard which are user applications solely created for Generative AI that market themselves as virtual assistants.

a comparison of the response to “Who are you?” from Snapchat’s My AI, ChatGPT, and Google Bard respectively

Secondly, the placement of My AI. The chatbot sits right at the top of all of my chats, instantly grasping my attention as soon as I open the app. That, juxtaposed with my friends’ chats easily allows my brain to forget that it is a chatbot and not one of my friends. Finally, the customizability of it all. I can change its name and avatar; morphing it into whatever I want it to be. This creates a deeper sense of connectivity because it no longer feels like just a chatbot but a co-created entity - incentivizing me to invest my time and attention.

positioning of My AI relative to my other chats

This artificial intimacy raises the thought-provoking question, “what happens when instead of turning to a human being for comfort or conversation, we turn to a conversational AI chatbot like My AI?” And what happens when the convenience of this interaction makes us do it repeatedly?

Currently, people find themselves in a state of greater social isolation than ever before, with a worrisome decline in the time spent engaging in social interactions. The benefits of social-human interaction cannot be overstated. Social connectedness through friendship promotes physical and mental well-being by allowing us to truly be seen for who we are, cared for, and supported especially during difficult times. When we lose sight of the importance of reaching out to each other, we not only lose out on these benefits but others as well. Having connections allows us access to people, places, and experiences that we may not previously have had access to. Underestimating the importance of these interactions through lessened incentives to connect with each other could directly harm our quality of life.

While conversational AI might be able to serve as a convenient remedy for everyday problems that you'd typically turn to a friend for, especially if they are busy, it can never replace human connection. It is of crucial importance to remember that the intimacy created with a chatbot is simply the result of thousands of training hours.

Our interactions using conversational AI for connection vary drastically. Some folks, especially those with a solid social network, may rarely see a need to use it. However, for others, especially those who find themselves in more isolated situations, the allure of conversational AI can be tempting. In situations like these, there's a genuine concern that people might end up devoting more of their time and attention to these AI interactions instead of nurturing genuine friendships and meaningful connections. This concern is particularly pronounced when we consider children. The process of making friends, much like any other skill in life, is something that needs to be learned and practiced. So, how can we ensure that people, especially children, are well-informed about the significance of human connections and the potential pitfalls of trying to substitute them with AI?

From both an ethical perspective and in alignment with the transparency aspect of AI policy guidelines, there should be prompts and warnings in place on these platforms, reminding individuals that they are interacting with a machine and not a human. These reminders are essential to keep us grounded in the understanding that AI, despite its capabilities, is fundamentally different from the authentic human relationships that contribute to our well-being and personal growth.

Here’s an excerpt from a poem I love by Gwendolyn Brooks that reminds us how much we truly need each other:
we are each other’s
harvest:
we are each other’s
business:
we are each other’s
magnitude and bond