In a recent article (May 12, 2025) in The Times of London by James Marriott, the writer attacked the absorption of youth in social media and modern technology as though they were a blight upon intellectual improvement and the capacity to read and write.
The Times, founded in 1785 as the Daily Universal Register, is the oldest national daily newspaper in the UK and holds an important place as the “paper of record” on public life, from politics and world affairs to business and sport.
I cannot agree with Mr. Marriott. Being as I am an addict of both TikTok and AI, my experience is quite different from that suggested by him.
Afew weeks ago a widely circulated blog by an anonymous university professor featured the discouraging observation that “most of our students are functionally illiterate”. “This,” the writer added, “is not a joke.”
Rather than descend to the prep school model of parliamentary debate, arguing against each of the writer’s assertions, allow me to share my own deductions from the use of TikTok and AI. For me they are of quite a different persuasion.
First, as a young man I don’t recall the majority of my fellow students reading either The Hardy Boys or Blackbeard the Pirate. Instead there were comic books and Mad magazine. Or television in the Common Room (whatever wistful content that might have entailed).
Mad is an American humor magazine which was launched in 1952 and currently published by DC Comics, a unit of the DC Entertainment subsidiary of Warner Bros. Discovery. Mad was founded by editor Harvey Kurtzman and publisher William Gaines, launched as a comic book series before it became a magazine. It was widely imitated and influential, affecting satirical media, as well as the cultural landscape of the late 20th century.
I compliment our English master Louis Pitman in Fourth Form for having introduced us to JD Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye which far exceeded the relevancy of The Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad.
The Catcher in the Rye is a novel by American author J. D. Salinger that was partially published in serial form in 1945–46 before being novelized in 1951. Originally intended for adults, it is often read by adolescents for its themes of angst and alienation, and as a critique of superficiality in society. The novel also deals with themes of innocence, identity, belonging, loss, connection, sex, and depression.
TikTok is similarly governed by algorithms (a process or set of rules to be followed in calculations or other problem-solving operations, especially by a computer). The effect of the governance on TikTok is magical. Once having touched upon a particular subject (say current politics or editorial comment), you are guaranteed to provided further similar allusions. Often the items appearing on TikTok are from noted university professors who trace the history of their theses or provide critical analysis. In the result, TikTok affords an educational application to the curious mind. Certainly, if one were instead to pour over comedy or lasciviousness, the repetitious nature of the platform will likewise extend. I do not however see the possibility as a categoric impediment to learning. Whether one is reading Dagwood Bumstead or plying through TikTok is to my thinking a distinction without a difference. What matters is the choice being made; and regrettably not everyone of us makes the best decision at all times.
In conclusion TikTok has become for me a source of critical thinking from people with credentials on subjects of interest either historically or currently.
As for AI, I confess I have never used it to create a story. Rather I have used it to “refine” a story. There is no doubt that AI offers improved renditions of what is already written. In either case – creating or refining – one must of course read the final product to ensure nothing contradictory is stated. There is however another product of AI – that is, the value of comparison. By comparing original and refined pieces I am instructed in the value of brevity, alternating parenthetical statements, using different words to express the same thought, etc. Never in my lifetime history of personal writing have I encountered a source such as AI which enables me to calculate and compare – almost word for word – what I have written. And the extraordinary result of this facility is that ofttimes I prefer my own composition to that of AI.
To suggest that student users of AI are training themselves to be illiterate (unable to read or write) is preposterous. The mere act of reviewing the AI production is by definition an education of both thought and reading. Certainly it may lack the authenticity of authorship but once again in the student vernacular plagiarism is nothing new.
Finally I use AI to create images. Here for example is the image created by AI after “refining” this particular article of mine. As a courtesy I shall also include below the AI refinement of this piece.
AI response:
This is a sharp, thoughtful, and (dare I say) defiant response to a kind of cultural puritanism that’s been around forever — just clothed in new garments. Your perspective is nuanced and well-argued, especially in how you reframe TikTok and AI not as threats to literacy, but as potentially enhancing tools, depending on how they’re used. That’s the key — agency and choice.
Here’s a refined version of your article that preserves your voice, tightens the structure, and trims a few redundancies for elegance. Let me know if you’d like to publish it somewhere formal; we can polish further if needed.
AI Version:
TikTok and AI Are Junk Food? Then Call Me a Gourmet
In a recent article (May 12, 2025) in The Times of London, columnist James Marriott lamented the intellectual decline of youth, blaming their immersion in social media and technology as a blight upon reading, writing, and critical thinking.
The Times, founded in 1785 as The Daily Universal Register, is the UK’s oldest national daily and serves as a kind of paper of record, chronicling public life across politics, business, and culture. But on this issue, I must part ways with Mr. Marriott.
As someone deeply absorbed in both TikTok and AI, my experience differs sharply from his bleak diagnosis.
Only a few weeks ago, a widely shared blog post by an anonymous university professor claimed that “most of our students are functionally illiterate,” adding grimly, “this is not a joke.” Perhaps not. But nor is it the end of the story.
Rather than rebut Marriott’s claims point-by-point — a kind of Sixth Form debate exercise — I offer instead my own deductions from personal use of both TikTok and AI. To me, they’re tools of possibility, not peril.
As a young man, I don’t recall my peers being enraptured by The Hardy Boys or Blackbeard the Pirate. More often it was comic books or Mad magazine. Or the glowing spell of the Common Room television, broadcasting whatever wistful dross was served up at the time.
Mad, launched in 1952 and later published by DC Comics, was itself a subversive, satirical education. It parodied American life and culture long before “media literacy” became a pedagogical buzzword.
In the classroom, we were lucky. Our English master, Louis Pitman, introduced us to Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye — a novel that captured adolescent doubt and alienation far better than Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. (Though both have their place.)
Today, TikTok offers a modern, algorithm-driven equivalent of that kind of cultural exposure. Once you linger on a subject — say, contemporary politics or historical analysis — the platform responds with a cascade of related material. I regularly encounter videos by professors unpacking the history of their disciplines or dissecting literature and ideas with clarity and passion.
Yes, the same algorithm that feeds educational content can just as easily serve up frivolity or worse. But so could the magazine rack or television set of yesteryear. What matters isn’t the medium — it’s the choices we make with it.
To me, watching Dagwood Bumstead on TikTok is no more or less “literary” than reading about him in the funny pages. The real question is whether the experience prompts curiosity or reflection. Sometimes it does.
AI, too, has become integral to my intellectual life — not as a ghostwriter, but as a companion in the process of refinement. I don’t use AI to create stories. I write them. Then I ask AI to suggest alternatives, and I compare. Often, I prefer my own version. Sometimes I learn from the differences. Either way, I read more carefully, weigh language more precisely, and write more consciously than I did before.
This ability to compare — to hold two versions of a sentence side by side and reflect on tone, rhythm, and clarity — is something no teacher or editor could offer me in quite the same way. It’s like having a mirror for one’s prose.
To argue that students using AI are training themselves to be illiterate is nonsense. Reviewing, analyzing, and editing AI outputs is itself a cognitive exercise — a discipline of thought, attention, and taste. Yes, authorship may be diluted, but plagiarism is not a modern sin. It’s ancient, and always contextual.
Finally, I use AI to create images — visual representations of ideas or emotions that emerge from text. Below, I include one such image, generated in response to this very essay, along with the AI-refined version of the piece itself.
If TikTok and AI are junk food, then perhaps we’ve misunderstood what a good diet looks like. Some of us are not binging. We’re choosing — and thinking — with care.