We must not allow ChatGPT in our schools and unis | David Penberthy

This passionless AI known as ChatGPT – which unis and schools will allow – marks the end, not the future, writes David Penberthy.

Our greatest moment of sporting infamy also produced one of our finest pieces of oratory, a crisp and blistering 155-word denunciation where not a syllable goes to waste. To commemorate the 42st anniversary of this event, I repeat it in full here.

“Everyone around Australia will have their own ideas on that, and we always get letters and phone calls about different things that happen, so I don’t expect everybody to agree with me. I don’t expect you’ll get more than 50 per cent agreement on anything. Let me just tell you what I think about it.

“I think it was a disgraceful performance from a captain who got his sums wrong today and I think it should never be permitted to happen again. We keep reading, and hearing, that the players are under a lot of pressure, and that they’re tired and jaded, and perhaps their judgment and their skill is blunted. Well, perhaps they might advance that as an excuse for what happened out there today. Not with me they don’t. I think it was a very poor performance. One of the worst things I have ever seen done on a cricket field. Good night.”

The author of course was the late Richie Benaud, our most venerated commentator, giving his unrestrained, real-time response to the underarm incident of February 1, 1982.

Trevor Chappell bowls underarm in the final ball of the innings to New Zealand batsman Brian McKecknie in 1981.

I re-watched and re-read what Benaud said after an on-air argument this week with my radio co-host about whether Underarm or Sandpapergate was our greatest sporting scandal of all time. (Underarm no contest, for mine).

Richie Benaud speaks after the underarm bowl.

There is so much to love about what Benaud said, and how he said it. It was wholly impromptu, no script or notes, straight from the heart. It was eloquent. It was indignant. It pre-empted excuses and demolished them with disdain. It was compelling and persuasive. It was the verbal expression of the expression on Rod Marsh’s face. It used the English language in a way that oozed passion and creativity.

The way we write, the way we use words generally, are under siege. Our use of language has been on the slide for a while now. Its mechanics are not taught the way they once were. Spelling has gone from a must-have, bedrock requirement for using English, to a nice-to-have bonus, where the cheat’s option of command-L lets you spellcheck your way through your written life, even though computers still habitually fail to identify errors based on context.

The laws of grammar, once the subject of daily rote learning exercises from canvas-covered exercise books, are now only taught with any rigour to those learning a second language.

The idea of learning Latin is regarded as arcane, an interest in etymology a waste of time. It is as if words simply turned up from somewhere, to be deployed as we see fit, an approach cemented by the sustained illiteracy that defines discourse on social media.

The dead language of management and cereal packet MBAs has crept into daily usage, with football teams making way for playing groups which (going forward) will have to get a whole lot more accountable and outcome-oriented if they’re going to make the finals.

Which brings us up to 2023 and the arrival of artificial intelligence and websites such as ChatGPT, which (we are told) can produce university-standard writing on any topic you can imagine. The fact that so many schools and universities are raising the white flag and permitting this linguistic and intellectual perversity should not come as a surprise.

It is merely the end point of the gradual drift from caring about and respecting language, coupled with the culture of mollycoddling, where not knowing something is now seen as a cue for sympathy, as opposed to a kick up the arse and a blunt instruction to try reading a book.

ChatGPT signals the end of research, and the end of caring about interesting, creative, compelling writing.

A generation ago, you’d have been kicked off campus if you told your tutor your essay on the fall of Saigon had been prepared with a computer program someone else had invented, which scoured the internet for other people’s work, then assembled it into a written form on which you could write your own name.

Which is what I did with this task last week on ChatGPT, asking it to write me a 155-word account on the implications of the 1981 Underarm incident. This is what I received in reply:

“The underarm incident is a highly controversial moment in cricket history that has sparked strong reactions from fans and experts alike. Many view the decision by Greg Chappell to instruct his brother to bowl an underarm delivery as a breach of sportsmanship and a violation of the spirit of the game. While it is understandable that players may be driven by the desire to win, it is crucial to always play within the rules and adhere to a high standard of ethical behaviour. This incident serves as a reminder that success on the field should be achieved through skill, hard work, and a respect for the rules and traditions of the game. In conclusion, the underarm incident raises important questions about the role of sportsmanship in cricket and highlights the need for all players to maintain a strong sense of fair play and respect for their opponents. Whether we are fans or players, it is essential that we strive to uphold the values that make sport such an important part of our lives.”

This artless, passionless dross also contains one split infinitive (“to always play”), one major factual error (the underarm was a legal delivery) an abundance of platitudes that read like a Whitney Houston lyric, and the pompous, drumroll-please flourish of an “In conclusion” to set up the final two paragraphs, which largely repeat points made earlier in the piece.

We are being led to believe this is the way of the future. As a great man once said, not with me they don’t.

Originally published as We must not allow ChatGPT in our schools and unis | David Penberthy