In the height of August, trapped indoors by the unrelenting summer heat, and due to my increasing worry about the current UK AI policy, I decided to write to my local MP to vent my frustration. However, I was dissatisfied with the reply given: the MP seemed more concerned about pacifying me and avoiding the question over responding to my concerns. While it is true that expecting a politician to answer a question is akin to asking them to saw off their arms, it left an unsavoury taste in my mouth: I felt unrepresented in my area.

Here is my very level-headed rant about the experience:

Upon opening the letter and skimming through it, I was aggravated by the condescending tone he employed regarding the current government’s dealings with AI – it “lacks coherence” he accused. Additionally, he called global legislation on AI “poorly thought through”. While his argument does hold much weight, there was no need to throw stones – I was writing as a constituent to ask him what he was going to do regarding this problem. This made it feel like he was trying too hard to place things in an “us versus the system” paradigm. Of course, being the well-adjusted character that I am, I resolved to read through the whole reply properly. This led me to my second objection – nothing was said about my issue.

Usually, when one writes a letter critiquing the government’s past and current actions, one would reply with assurances about the future. However, on top of criticizing national and international action, this MP decided to emphasise what their government had done in the past to introduce AI safety measures. This clearly shows, as I assume that the MP is not incompetent, that he simply did not read my letter before replying; he must have used pre-written paragraphs to carelessly expedite what should be an MP’s foremost duty. This once again made it feel like I was unheard and unrecognised by my MP.

And perhaps the largest reason, and the most ironic one, is that according to numerous AI detectors, 30-37% of his reply resembles patterns displayed by generative AI. For a reply to a letter with concerns about AI policy and safety, it was like a slap in the face. This man did was clearly indifferent to AI developments, unironically choosing to literally automate his reply to me. Beforehand, I thought that I had a voice worth listening to, that an MP would take the time to look at a letter from his constituents, but apparently, that was simply too much to ask. But why?

Admittedly, MPs are usually too busy too busy with official tasks. As MPs are estimated to receive up to 300 emails per day, there is a great, understandable, incentive to maximise the efficiency by which replies are made. In fact, MPs have been known to have specific paragraphs of text for specific topics, which they copy-paste across letters to avoid redundant work. However, this flawed system is not a valid excuse for denying people their voice. And there are good methods to get your voice heard.

In the age of digital correspondence, written letters should have more value than a quickly assembled email. This would get any grievances you relay heard more effectively, requiring an MPs team to physically handle the letter and file it. Additionally, a physical letter requires a physical answer, you get the unique experience of receiving the designed paper Parliament uses in their replies (which they really should not be spending tax money on). In conclusion, do not let this article discourage you from writing to your MPs, rather, format your issues in a bolder, more prominent way than the other voices clamouring to be heard.