Jude Barlow, an elder from the Ngunnawal community on whose country Queanbeyan is built, is alarmed on many levels. She argues that AI technologies are appropriating her peoples’ languages and cultural elements without their consent. AI-generated Aboriginal style artworks were produced, causing outrage throughout the indigenous community. In fact, these works can be generated in just a few seconds with tools such as ChatGPT. Barlow contends that incorporating the Ngunnawal language in this setting is disrespectful. He feels it doesn’t succeed in adequately engaging and honoring First Nations cultures.
Dr. Terri Janke, a respected legal expert and advocate for Indigenous rights, warns that print-on-demand platforms are increasingly appropriating First Nations art through AI technology. She condemns the practice as cultural theft. In reality, she points out, as much as 75% of Indigenous-style art sold on the market isn’t created by First Nations artists. Not only does this trend cheapen the spirit of Indigenous art, but it sets into motion a cycle of appropriation.
The issue is compounded by the fact that AI systems can rapidly process vast amounts of information, interpreting tens of thousands of years of Indigenous cultures almost instantaneously. This new capability raises some of the most pressing questions. We must ask what constitutes ethical use of technology that seeks to reproduce and commercialize cultural expressions with rich historical significance.
Cultural Misappropriation and Lack of Consent
Barlow’s fears hit home with most of the experts First and foremost, they underscore that AI-generated content cannot engage Indigenous communities in authentic and substantive ways. “It’s not doing that because the guidelines [say] there’s got to be engagement with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people about their culture,” she states. Without consultation, community cultural expression is diminished. This lack of representation puts forward the question of who gets to re-create these cultural facets.
Dr. Janke elaborates on this issue, stating, “It’s going to tell you what it thinks you want to hear, really is what I’m gleaning from this.” She critiques the lack of engagement from companies like OpenAI, noting, “I couldn’t find any public evidence that OpenAI specifically consulted with Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander groups when developing its policies or ethical frameworks.”
The ramifications of AI’s unregulated appropriation reach much further than artistic representation. Barlow argues that AI will never understand the spiritual and oral traditions that are at the core of First Nations cultures. She notes, “AI has no Dreaming, it has no kinship, country, or cultural obligations,” emphasizing that these are essential elements that cannot be translated into algorithms or models.
The Impact on Authenticity and Identity
Birrunga, who has been a Wiradyuri visual artist, contributes yet another dimension to the discussion. Those formal similarities aside, he says AI-generated artworks often ignore the contextual narratives that provide Indigenous art with its real significance. “It kind of homogenises [Indigenous peoples] when we’re actually really dynamic and varied,” he explains. This homogenization poses the danger of washing out the specific stories and cultural ties that make each native community distinct.
In addition, as Barlow points out, particular art forms including dot painting are not traditional to Ngunnawal culture. “Buru means kangaroo and Yarra means goodbye,” she explains, indicating that without understanding the cultural context, AI-generated art risks misrepresenting or misappropriating critical aspects of Indigenous heritage.
Dr. Janke cautions against AI presents a continuum of dangers to First Nations peoples, from cultural appropriation to cultural exploitation. She believes these technologies must be approached with caution: “AI does create a new risk in many cases. It creates the ability to do an existing harm easier.” The use of AI to further commodify culture with little to no accountability in the process is a top concern for everyone working towards protecting Indigenous rights.
Navigating Legal and Ethical Challenges
In response to these issues, advocates call for a reconsideration of current legal frameworks governing cultural representation and IP. Dr. Stephen King, a commissioner at the Australian Productivity Commission, notes that there must be a balance struck with regulation. “Existing laws need to be checked to make sure that they’re fit for purpose … but that’s a very different approach to having a broad AI act,” he states.
Regarding Dr. Janke’s work, she calls for deeper involvement with Indigenous communities to create ethical guidelines for AI applications. “It has not really engaged in the very first step which is First Nations people should be the ones to say who reproduces the culture,” she asserts. Ignoring the need for direct engagement is a recipe for repeating colonialist patterns of exploitation.
The commercialization of AI-generated Aboriginal-style images is already being seen on platforms like Adobe Stock and marketplace platforms like Temu. Now that these images can easily be used commercially, there’s a growing concern about the authenticity of Indigenous art. With that deck came mounting concerns about its integrity. Experts caution that as long as the technology itself lacks proper regulations and checks, this trend is poised to continue unchallenged.
