The Last “Unbitten” Humans Look Awfully Rabid
Being “anti‑AI” these days apparently feels like being one of the last unbitten humans in a zombie apocalypse.
Which is a poetic way of saying: “I have built my entire identity on the idea that I am still normal and everyone else is contaminated.”
The funny part is that these supposedly “unbitten” humans behave less like noble survivors and more like a dog with rabies that’s hacked its way into the comments section.
They don’t come to argue.
They come to bite.
They arrive in your blog not with questions, not with positions, but with a pre‑printed set of insults. They don’t actually have a stance on the technology; they have a diagnosis for you.
Ask them for a coherent argument and they immediately default to biography fanfic:
you’re a fraud, you’re a fake artist, you’re a narcissist, you’re “addicted” to AI.
They’re not reading the text, they’re rewriting the author into a caricature they can safely hate.
This is status panic wearing a virtue mask.
If your sense of worth is “I am one of the few Real Humans who still create the hard way”, then generative tools are not a technical problem, they’re an existential one. The moment some “zombie” with a laptop produces something interesting, your exclusive priesthood stops being exclusive.
Admitting that AI is just another layer of infrastructure would mean admitting that your superiority was circumstantial, not metaphysical. So you can’t admit that. You have to declare the tool itself inhuman, and everyone who uses it—less human than you.
And that’s where the zombie metaphor becomes useful—not for describing “AI people”, but for dissecting them.
The logic goes like this:
There are “clean” humans and “bitten” ones.
The bitten are no longer fully human.
Therefore, normal rules don’t apply to them.
Once you’ve framed someone as infected, you can justify anything: harassment, pile‑ons, doxxing, coordinated smear campaigns, endless ad hominem attacks. It’s not abuse, it’s “containment”. It’s not bullying, it’s “defending humanity”.
They are terrified of dehumanisation, so they pre‑emptively dehumanise everyone else.
The irony: people who supposedly “refuse to become zombies” have already adopted zombie rules of engagement.
They move in packs.
They hunt by smell: any hint of AI in a workflow is enough to trigger a moral feeding frenzy.
They don’t distinguish between “I disagree with this tool” and “this person no longer deserves basic respect”.
If you truly believed you were uninfected, you wouldn’t spend your evenings foaming in strangers’ comment sections. You’d be building alternative models, supporting non‑AI spaces, or at least articulating a coherent ethic.
Instead, you bite the nearest throat and call it a stance.
There is a difference between criticism and rabies.
Criticism says: “Here is what these tools do to labour, to ownership, to aesthetics, and here is why I’m against that.”
Rabies says: “I don’t care what you’re actually doing. You used a forbidden tool. You’re contaminated. I am now licensed to attack you.”
The first requires thought, nuance, and a willingness to stay human in a complicated world.
The second requires nothing but fear, a moral slogan, and Wi‑Fi.
Funny how the people who chant “use your brain instead of AI” are the ones least interested in thinking past the slogan.
If you want to know who’s really “unbitten”, don’t look at who refuses to touch AI.
Look at who still treats other people as human beings while navigating a future they didn’t personally sign off on.
The rest are just calling themselves survivors while snapping at every ankle that dares to walk past their cage.
If you’re so obsessed with people “using their brains”, here’s a wild experiment: try using yours to think past the outrage prompt, resist the dogpile, and act like a human being instead of a pack trigger.