How to Be an African Writer in the AI Era

A decade ago, I found myself in Lusaka, Zambia, alongside a group of exceptional writers at a Caine Prize for African Writing retreat. This prestigious award, established in 2000, aimed to introduce African literature to a broader international audience. We were joined by four former winners and numerous talented authors. As we wrote and critiqued our stories, we discussed the chasm between the literature we aspired to create and the works that publishers desired from us.

African fiction had gained traction, yet many celebrated pieces often focused on themes such as war, poverty, queer persecution, immigration to the West, and Western-European-inspired narratives within African contexts.

During our stay in Lusaka in 2016, we questioned the extent to which African literature could stray from these common themes. Many of us, representing the diversity and breadth of the term "African," acknowledged that some stories, termed "accessible," would continue to command significant recognition and acceptance. A decade later, the Caine Prize has become a stage for a different discussion about African writers and literary authenticity.

Recently, Zimbabwean writer Simbarashe Steyn Kundizeza was awarded for his story "The Blue Fighter." Shortly after, journalist Vauhini Vara claimed that AI detection tool Pangram flagged the entire story as generated by artificial intelligence. This accusation sparked debates on AI capabilities, contemporary literature's state, and the legitimacy of Black intellectual achievements.

Vara's statement reignited concerns raised earlier this year when three Commonwealth Short Story Prize winners were accused of using AI. Critics also feared that literature had become so mundane that even artificial intelligence could produce award-winning prose. However, the racial dimensions of the controversy were significant.

Some argued that AI detection tools were used to unjustly discredit Black and brown authors. Others viewed the accusations as confirmation of long-held beliefs that Black and brown authors required external help to gain prominence, either through institutions that allegedly favored them or now, through artificial intelligence.

This situation highlights a troubling irony: African writers, who have been encouraged to produce work appealing to white audiences, now face suspicion about their authorship. In essence, we have reached a point where writing that adheres to conventional literary norms—especially those associated with "African" writing—can be perceived as artificially crafted.

Kundizeza's story, for instance, features a young narrator whose father abandons his civil engineering career to pursue aquarium dreams, while his mother struggles to keep their finances afloat. Familiar plot elements like the family relocating to a poorer neighborhood, the mother confronting the father over his obsession, and the mother ultimately selling the remaining fish tanks emerged.

Kundizeza has denied using AI, asserting that the story was inspired by personal experiences. While I believe him, the predictability of the story's components may contribute to suspicions of AI involvement. This is because chatbots are trained on human writing, including African narratives shaped by the literary market. Consequently, it is plausible that an AI would replicate traditional conventions that have long been rewarded in literature.