I have always thought of elections as messy stories: big, sprawling narratives with plots and subplots and thousands of characters, told in bits and pieces by narrators far from omniscient—never unified, scattered across media platforms, history books, and the vagaries of memory.
Journalists piece together such stories. With visuals, out in the field, in newsrooms, and in broadcast studios. Their storytelling often borrows from fiction to add depth and nuance. But today, journalism stands on the brink of something stranger… something perilous but also potentially richer: the creative possibilities offered by AI.
What do I mean by that? AI is no longer merely a tool for automation. It is emerging as a canvas for journalistic creativity, offering ways to tell stories we hadn’t quite imagined.
What if journalism could wear a digital face? Or sing?
These are no longer fanciful questions. During the recent US election, I worked with a team of young multimedia journalists at Bournemouth University exploring how AI might enhance storytelling. We called it Project L. We tested digital avatars—animated versions of real experts delivering sharp, engaging election commentary that felt at home on social media. We used AI-generated music to report on the tension in the swing states and the resumption of polling after bomb scares in Georgia and Michigan. Trump’s victory speech and Kamala Harris’s concession? We turned those into animated music videos, blending verse and visuals. (See an overview of Project L here.)
This is where you might be wondering: why? Why go to such lengths?
These experiments weren’t about jumping onto the Grand Bandwagon of Gimmicks that accompany every disruptive technology. Nor were they about producing more content. Project L was about creating different content—stories designed to resonate, connect, and reach audiences in ways traditional formats may not. While much of the conversation around AI focuses on automating news production to cut costs, we wanted to explore how this disruption could reimagine storytelling itself. AI doesn’t just change how stories are told; it redefines what they can be.
But there’s a catch. Isn’t there always? Every technological disruption brings opportunities and challenges. With AI, the most immediate concern is job displacement—automation that replaces, rather than enhances, human storytellers.
Take the AI avatars we experimented with. In theory, their use democratises production: no studio, no expensive equipment. Just a good script and a laptop. A small team can create quality visual content, in multiple languages, at a fraction of the cost. But this efficiency carries a risk: content fatigue. There’s only so much of content a viewer, an audience segment, can consume—a threshold that AI provides us the capability to surpass all too easily. But just because we can produce more content doesn’t mean we should. The real challenge lies in using AI to create meaningful, resonant stories—not adding to the noise.
So, how do we ensure AI enhances storytelling in journalism rather than diluting it? The answer lies in purpose, the why of our journalistic content. AI shouldn’t be a replacement for human creativity; it should be a tool for enhancement. By taking over repetitive tasks, it frees journalists to focus on imagination, nuance, and connection—the things machines cannot quite replicate. This liberation allows us to ask: what stories could we tell if we weren’t bound by traditional formats and constraints? How might we leverage avatars, music, or interactive narratives, or investigative opportunities, or personalisation possibilities to connect with audiences in ways we’ve never tried before?
That’s the potential AI offers. Used responsibly, guided by ethics and a sense of purpose, it can be a powerful tool to enhance creativity. Journalism has never been just about delivering information. It’s about forging connections: telling stories that challenge us, inspire us, and remind us of our shared humanity. The question isn’t whether AI can help us tell stories—it most certainly can—but whether we use it to tell the ones that truly matter, in ways that remain unmistakably, defiantly human.
This article first appeared in The Hindu, on 20 December 2024. The cover image was produced with MidJourney.
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