Opinion.
Manuel Antunes da Cunha*
Creativity Week took place through yesterday at the Catholic University in Braga, organized as part of Transform4Europe, a network dedicated to cooperation and innovation in teaching and research that brings together universities from ten European countries and a Ukrainian partner. From artificial intelligence to conflict resolution, and covering sustainability and education, participants discussed experiences and outlined strategies centered on a concept that is increasingly invoked but less and less fostered.
The fact that an academic institution feels the need to examine this issue is a sign of healthy concern. And with good reason! University professors are asked to be creative and innovative in the classroom, but their careers are governed by a logic of semi-industrial scientific production, evaluated by the number of articles and citations and by impact factors. Reams of texts with the same format, citing the same authors, and following the same reading frameworks, pad up résumés, when they should be helping us understand the world and improve our lives.
How strange, then, that our students’ work is so uniform? The fact that classic spelling and syntax errors, haphazard punctuation, typos, stubborn repetitions, sentences without verbs, or poorly formatted bibliographic references have vanished into thin air should hardly be a cause for nostalgia. Those who have spent rivers of ink crossing out “houveram,” “à muito tempo,” “interviu,” or “tipo” will certainly not be lighting candles to mourn their departure. But along with these linguistic aberrations, the uniqueness of those who typed them has also vanished.
It’s true that plagiarism and other tricks didn’t wait for artificial intelligence to set up camp in academia. But amid the paragraphs written by others, one could still catch a glimpse of a person. Today, the clinical coldness of texts dictated by algorithms reigns supreme. Yet it is through corrected mistakes that we learn. It is by trying, failing, and trying again that we grow and discover who we are. Discovery—whether personal or scientific—never arises from a path without stumbles. Creativity takes root in drafts.
The university is not an ivory tower. Both inside and outside its walls, the landscape is, at times, bleak. Language has become standardized: a new colleague undergoes “onboarding”; meetings are crammed with “feedback,” “deadlines,” “brainstorming,” and “coffee breaks”; and conversations are filled with clichés like “stepping out of your comfort zone,” “making a difference,” or “thinking outside the box.”
In cities that have been gussied up with carbon paper, Instagram-worthy cafés are decorated with the same exposed brick, hanging plants, filament light bulbs, and neon signs bearing inspirational quotes, while stores are transformed into barbershops, concept stores, wine bars, or nail salons. In historic districts, the same international chains jostle for space alongside mass-produced souvenir shops and storefronts displaying pastéis de nata, among other “typical” delicacies, for tourists to consume. Much more could be said about this standardized era, which leaves little room for difference—from coldly stylized logos to wedding photos with identical poses, from automated playlists to trends that millions replicate to the letter.
Among the reflections heard during Creativity Week, I’ll share just a few. At a roundtable discussion held at the Muzeu space, the president of the Catholic University, Isabel Capeloa Gil, noted that the university refers to the *studium*, in the dual sense of a place of study and a studio, as a workshop for experimentation where error is part of the learning process.
For his part, musician Pedro Abrunhosa reminded us that sometimes we learn more about class relations from Dostoevsky than from a European Union report. As for artificial intelligence, it is most likely not AI itself that will bring about the end of the world, but rather the haste with which we hand over to it what makes us human: the time to think and the right to doubt. We sacrifice creativity on the altar of productivity.
I’m writing this column at an airport, the quintessential standardized space. And yet, it’s during my plane trips—without internet access—that I read most attentively, reflect most calmly, and come up with my best ideas. Nothing is created in a hurry, nor amid the noise. Creativity needs time to wander, fruitful hesitation, contemplative solitude, and a silence that holds meaning. And, just like in fado, before the song begins, someone has to ask for silence.
The author uses artificial intelligence as a tool for editing and writing support. The ideas and choices are his sole responsibility.
* Professor at the Portuguese Catholic University – Braga
