Why The Struggle To Write Still Matters In An AI Age

Dorcas Lam, Assistant Professor at the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences at University of Nottingham Malaysia addresses concerns and over-reliance of AI in academic writing.

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It happens right around the third or fourth paragraph of a grading session. The perusing feels spotless. The semicolons are in the right places even if there are too many of them; the transitions are seamless. But as I read, it feels like something’s missing. There is no “voice” behind the words. No rhythm, no bold (even if slightly flawed) opinion, and no personal spark and anecdotes. No life. It is what tech analysts are increasingly calling “mid” writing that is grammatically perfect but intellectually average.

As academics, we are often asked what we think about the use of AI in academic writing or in our classrooms. Well, the reality is more nuanced. I’m not entirely worried about AI as a tool; I think collectively, lecturers and other educators are worried about the atrophy of the student voice.

Writing as Cognitive Weightlifting

A decade ago, we required students to write thousands of words because we believed in the “struggle”. Writing was never just about the final paper; it was about the thinking required to produce it and the unique voice that shapes the paper as it also shapes the person writing it.

The novelist George Saunders once described writing as a “forehead needle” that moves between Positive and Negative as you edit. You write a sentence, you don’t like it, you adjust it. That iterative, obsessive process is actually cognitive weightlifting. It forces the brain to hold a complex argument in its head, to synthesize various facts, and to eventually arrive at a unique conclusion.

When a student prompts an AI to “write a 2,000-word essay on sociolinguistics,” they aren’t just saving time. They are bypassing the very mental gym where critical thinking is built. If you skip the “messy middle” of drafting, you aren’t just outsourcing the work, you are outsourcing the learning.

The “Vibe Check” and the Mask of Neutrality

Many students believe they are “beating the system” by using AI, but for an experienced lecturer, the “mask” is easy to spot. It isn’t just about using detection software; it’s a “vibe check”.

AI is trained to be neutral, hedged, and safe. It avoids the quirks that define a real human perspective. In my consultations, I often see a disconnect: a student who speaks passionately and draws on lived experiences in class discussions suddenly submits a paper that reads like a clinical corporate report. This forced neutrality is the death of academic excellence and individuality. To be a great thinker, you must take a stance. You must have a “sense of self” in your prose—something current AI models are structurally designed to suppress.

Furthermore, there is the issue of integrity. Recent studies coordinated by the BBC show that AI assistants misrepresent news content or hallucinate facts up to 45% of the time. When a student relies on AI for the “input” of their knowledge, they are often building an argument on a foundation of digital sand.

The Challenge is the Point

To all students, my message is this: We discourage the constant use of AI not because we’re old school. We discourage it because we want you to find your own voice—that which makes you unique and human. After all, this is what education is meant to do.

AI is a tool that can help us be more productive, sure. It can help us brainstorm or organise our thoughts. But we should only be using it when we truly need the help in more tedious-repetitive tasks, not as a default setting. When you use AI to eliminate the challenge of writing, you accidentally eliminate the very thing you came to university for: the ability to think for yourself.

We want you to use these tools with discernment. Use them to go further, to research deeper, or to polish a draft you’ve already wrestled with. Use them, but don’t let them replace you. Don’t let the algorithm speak for you. Your unique voice with all its messy, brilliant, and distinctive glory is the only thing a machine cannot replicate—and that’s what makes you you.

Don’t trade your voice for a shortcut. Don’t trade your identity for an easy grade. The struggle isn’t the obstacle; the struggle is the education.

This article is attributed to Ms Dorcas Lam, Assistant Professor at the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, and Programme Director for Nottingham’s Foundation Programme, University of Nottingham Malaysia.