The Essence of Making in an Age of AI Assistance

In an increasingly automated world, the fundamental question of what it means to "make" something has taken on new complexity. Beej Jorgenson's recent contemplation on this subject reveals a deeply personal perspective that resonates with many creators navigating the landscape of AI-assisted development.

The author begins by establishing his credentials as a seasoned technologist—Gen-X hacker, educator, and professional with decades of experience—before presenting a series of AI-generated examples: science fiction excerpts, artwork, code samples, and even carpentry projects. The revelation that these were created by AI rather than human hands sets the stage for his central thesis: the distinction between initiating creation and actually making something carries profound psychological weight.

"I don't really feel like I made any of it," Jorgenson admits, articulating a discomfort that many may recognize but few articulate so clearly. This discomfort manifests in his linguistic choices—he prefers "I had a deck built" rather than "I built a deck" when contractors perform the work, and similarly distances himself from AI-generated accomplishments.

The author's personal project—a hand-coded flash card application for his wife's Spanish studies—serves as a contrasting example. Though he consulted AI for technical knowledge about Google Sheets' CSV endpoint, he wrote every line of code himself. The result, while modest in scale, generated genuine pride and satisfaction that AI-assisted work could not match.

"I'm infinitely more proud of that code than anything I've had Claude write, because I'm not capable of being proud of the latter," he writes, highlighting the psychological dimension of creative fulfillment.

Jorgenson then explores the philosophical boundaries of "making" by examining the relationship between programmers and their tools. He considers whether using a C compiler differs fundamentally from prompting an AI to generate code, noting that in both cases, the human creates at a higher level of abstraction than the final output.

"Things that I do: Write C code and run it. Use a hammer to drive nails. Use an assembler to convert assembly to machine code," he categorizes, contrasting these with "Things that I ask others to do at my command: Write a piece of software. Build me a deck. Paint me a picture."

The distinction, he suggests, may lie in the nature of the relationship—with tools being extensions of ourselves, while AIs function more like subcontractors responding to our requests. This becomes particularly murky when considering an AI-powered hammer that might execute the precise sequence of movements needed to drive a nail perfectly every time.

Ultimately, Jorgenson arrives at a pragmatic yet principled position: "I know it when I see it" when it comes to genuine making. The article concludes with a thoughtful reference to Douglas Adams' "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," suggesting that our philosophical wrestling with these questions may require similarly expansive timeframes.

In a development landscape increasingly dominated by AI assistance, Jorgenson's reflection serves as an important reminder that the psychological dimension of creation—our sense of agency, accomplishment, and identity as makers—may require new frameworks as our tools evolve. As we delegate more of the mechanical aspects of creation to intelligent systems, the question of what we consider "ourselves" to have made becomes not merely semantic, but deeply personal.