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The fact that there are so many more people traveling internationally now than ever before in history is not necessarily a bad thing; luxuries that were once only afforded to the ultra-rich have been democratized by low-cost airlines and cheap deals on sites like Airbnb, Booking.com, and Expedia. For many people, the summer of 2022 was their first time traveling internationally since the pre-Covid era, and despite the continued risks of traveling at all and the confusing and contradictory regulations about masking and vaccines, planning an international trip is now a nearly seamless experience: online travel agencies serve their users only the highest rated itineraries, thereby guaranteeing a publicly vettable experience. And if you could go to the best possible cities, eat at the best possible restaurants, and take the best possible pictures, why wouldn’t you?

Our cultural obsession with having “the best” of everything is a topic I’m endlessly fascinated by, but traveling is different from, say, spending hours on Wirecutter or prowling Amazon reviews to find the best cat litter. Everyone who can afford to buy the best cat litter is likely going to end up with the same formula; the same can’t be said for restaurants or hotels, which have limits on the number of people who can be there. The problem of travel at this particular moment is not too many people traveling in general, it is too many people wanting to experience the exact same thing because they all went to the same websites and read the same reviews. It’s created the idea that if you do not go to this specific bar or stay in this exact neighborhood, all the money and time you spent on being here has been wasted, and you have settled for something that is not as perfect as it could have been.

Yet so often the opposite is true: that if you ignore a large portion of what the internet recommends, you’re significantly less likely to end up having the Positano problem. True luxury, as any rich person knows, is the ability to separate oneself from the masses, to avoid being next to or even seen by regular people. In the age of algorithms, the only way to replicate any semblance of luxury is to take the keystrokes less traveled. A vacation is not, or at least shouldn’t be, a to-do list, something to be optimized with meticulously timed reservations months in advance, though increasingly this is what travel is: Unless you’ve secured a reserved time slot, the must-see museums of Florence and “you have to eat here” pasta spots in Rome are inaccessible for those unwilling to spend hours in line or so cramped that being there is no longer enjoyable. And just as in other popular travel destinations flooded by wealthy tourists who benefit from the undercurrent of underpaid locals providing them a once-in-a-lifetime experience, it is soured by the fact that those who actually live there can’t afford the luxuries they’re peddling.

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Not only did I feel somewhat ridiculous for being in Italy at all considering the number of other people on my Instagram feed who had the exact same thought this summer, I felt ridiculous that I had not known how competitive the whole thing had become, that no matter how many recommendations you receive from friends or strangers on the internet, the same ones will have been given to thousands of other people who are just as unhappy to see you there as you are them.

Travel right now feels to me like walking into a Chanel store and looking at all the beautiful clothes, perhaps grazing them with your shoulder, but never being able to put them on, all the while being watched with disdain by the people whose job it is to weed out the non-ultra-wealthy. I have never actually been in a Chanel store because I know better than to shop somewhere I cannot afford, but I have yet to learn this lesson when it comes to travel. Everything about the way the industry works now — booking websites, credit cards, Chase points, Instagram — makes us believe that actually, we can afford to visit a place like Positano, and that it will look just as glorious as the photos taken from the most expensive resorts. Being adjacent to luxury, though, is not the same thing as experiencing it. In fact, it can make us feel bereft of something we never had in the first place, but somehow felt like we deserved.

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Julia Stoyanovich, director of the NYU Center for Responsible AI, told me she was thrilled to see the bill of rights highlight two important points: AI systems should work as advertised, but many don’t. And when they don’t, we should feel free to just stop using them.

“I was very happy to see that the Bill discusses effectiveness of AI systems prominently,” she said. “Many systems that are in broad use today simply do not work, in any meaningful sense of that term. They produce arbitrary results and are not subjected to rigorous testing, and yet they are used in critical domains such as hiring and employment.”

The bill of rights also reminds us that there’s always “the possibility of not deploying the system or removing a system from use.” This almost seems too obvious to need saying, yet the tech industry has proven it needs reminders that some AI just shouldn’t exist.

“We need to develop a culture of rigorously specifying the criteria against which we evaluate AI systems, testing systems before they are deployed, and re-testing them throughout their use to ensure that these criteria are still met. And removing them from use if the systems do not work,” Stoyanovich said.

When will the laws actually protect us?

The American public, looking across the pond at Europe, could be forgiven for a bit of wistful sighing this week.

While the US has just now released a basic list of protections, the EU released something similar way back in 2019, and it’s already moving on to legal mechanisms for enforcing those protections. The EU’s AI Act, together with a newly unveiled bill called the AI Liability Directive, will give Europeans the right to sue companies for damages if they’ve been harmed by an automated system. This is the sort of legislation that could actually change the industry’s incentive structure.

“The EU is absolutely ahead of the US in terms of creating AI regulatory policy,” Broussard said. She hopes the US will catch up, but noted that we don’t necessarily need much in the way of brand new laws. “We already have laws on the books for things like financial discrimination. Now we have automated mortgage approval systems that discriminate against applicants of color. So we need to enforce the laws that are on the books already.”

In the US, there is some new legislation in the offing, such as the Algorithmic Accountability Act of 2022, which would require transparency and accountability for automated systems. But Broussard cautioned that it’s not realistic to think there’ll be a single law that can regulate AI across all the domains in which it’s used, from education to lending to health care. “I’ve given up on the idea that there’s going to be one law that’s going to fix everything,” she said. “It’s just so complicated that I’m willing to take incremental progress.”

Cathy O’Neil, the author of Weapons of Math Destruction, echoed that sentiment. The principles in the AI Bill of Rights, she said, “are good principles and probably they are as specific as one can get.” The question of how the principles will get applied and enforced in particular sectors is the next urgent thing to tackle.

“When it comes to knowing how this will play out for a specific decision-making process with specific anti-discrimination laws, that’s another thing entirely! And very exciting to think through!” O’Neil said. “But this list of principles, if followed, is a good start.”

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