How to Know Whether You Should Be Worried About AI Taking Your Speechwriting Job

Many of us were journalists before turning to rhetoric, which makes speechwriters an exquisite fusion of objectors and optimists with a weakness for eloquence: people who can spot the long con, laugh at the charlatan behind the suit and gleefully point out the hearing device in the prophet’s ear.

So why do so many speechwriters cling to moral arguments in a futile crusade against AI, proclaiming that AI could never replace us, that we alone hold the keys to true authenticity and that any self-respecting leader couldn’t, shouldn’t, mustn’t let AI near our sacred words.

Please.

They can. They will. They are.

I get the fear. Speechwriting is hard enough without some jackass from finance skulking around the office asking if we’ve heard the good news of GPT 3:16.

At the same time, appealing to morality is a dead end. With Washington’s favourite convicted felon auctioning off moral authority like a 12th-century pope with a mittful of indulgences, national climate plans going up in flames and tech leaders changing positions faster than an apocalyptic edition of the Kama Sutra, forgive me if I seem cynical. 

What will happen is what always happens.

Incompetence leads to recession, recession leads to budget cuts and budget cuts lead to the gutting of comms teams and speechwriters first. This time? Finance guy has an AI backup plan, and not a single shit to spare for writers, creators or appeals to morality.

So, is it lights out for speechwriters?

No. It means we adapt, just like we always have. 

But this time, it won’t just be speechwriters forced to adapt. Leaders will too. 

Here’s why: every company, politician, CEO and kid who can’t think of a decent ending to their essay on mealworms is now pulling from the same algorithmic language.

The great flattening of writing has begun. Been on LinkedIn lately? It’s a shitshow of schlock. Speeches are heading in the same direction. They’re simple to spot: random, general phrases with a line or two of general relativity.  

Are AI models capable of more? Can they, with exactly the right prompts (which often have a greater word count and time investment than the actual speech), crank out something decent? Of course they can. 

But few will bother to learn how to write decent prompts. 

We’ve had PowerPoint for decades, yet 99% of presentations still look like medieval woodcuts carved by a half-blind monk.

And because learning language models admit to making errors and creating “hypothetical situations” without identifying them as hypothetical, we’re going to witness more leaders making embarrassing mistakes and being accused of plagiarism. 

In this orgy of unoriginality, tone-deaf messaging and outright unreliability, leaders and speechwriters who treat AI as a complement – not a replacement – while mastering delivery will have an enormous advantage.

I’m talking about leaders who can think on their feet – on-script and off – while engaging the audience, staying on message, and not veering wildly off the rails.

We can’t get to that future fast enough. 

And I want to help smooth the path. 

In a world where AI can generate a speech in seconds, and where genes seem to have stopped selecting for morality, it’s time to start separating leadership contenders from pretenders. 

To start separating those who actually know what they’re talking about from those just reading AI-generated talking points.

I’m proposing a bold test of leadership. It doesn’t require any new technology. In fact, it’s a return to the roots of rhetoric. And we can all have a front-row seat.

Here’s how I see the leadership speech test working.

Picture a huge crowd. Big event. Global stage. Leader walks into a room. They’re given a subject. Five minutes to prepare.

No speechwriters. No computers. No AI-generated drafts. Just them, a pen and a blank page – live audience, moderator.

We’ll be fair: they can jot down a few key points – a structure, a few phrases – but when they step on stage, no script.

I can hear many of you now saying, “c’mon, we already have that…it’s called a panel!” 

Please.

Any speechwriter reading this has likely scripted an entire panel – from the moderator’s questions down to the planted questions and the “spontaneous” responses. Hell, I once scripted a Parliamentary debate for both sides of the House. 

Modern panels are about as spontaneous as a Putin re-election – scripted, rehearsed and with zero chance of surprises. 

I’m talking specifically speaking about a set subject relevant to the leader that isn’t scripted in advance. 

I’m not talking about a gotcha moment, or a partisan perp walk, nor should the results necessarily be judged on eloquence alone (after all, rhetoric is not the sole indicator of good leadership). It’s about showing you are in command of your subject without a crutch.

Could your speaker do it?

Could they organize their thoughts quickly? Could they speak with clarity, authority and confidence? Could they deliver a message that sounds like them – without the crutch of AI?

If the answer is no, then AI isn’t the problem. The problem is that they don’t know what they’re talking about.

Why would leaders take this on? Well, is it not a badge of honour to prove that you are doing your thinking and not AI? Is it not a fundamental requirement of a leader? Of a communicator? 

You claim authenticity? This is the real deal.

What This Means for Speechwriters

Before my fellow speechwriters collectively split the hyperbole atom, let me be clear: this test isn’t about sidelining speechwriters or putting ourselves out of work. Quite the opposite. Speechwriting’s best days aren’t behind us: they’re ahead.

If we truly believe that AI is going to replace us because it can write lines we previously wrote for our speakers, I think we completely misunderstand what speechwriting is about.

It’s more than us writing a few lines and the speaker mindlessly repeating it. Speechwriting is, at its core, a collaboration with our speaker – an exchange of ideas. A beautiful argument that ends only when one is fired, quits, or gets sent to the great approvals chain in the sky. 

It’s about deep research, strategy, thought leadership, policy, problem-solving, delivery coaching, anticipating dirty rotten Q&As, and a hell of a lot more. 

That’s what we do. And if you’re a speechwriter and you’re not expressing that value – if you see yourself as simply a fucking typist, AI has a pink slip with your name on it.

Speechwriters who truly understand their value and how to express that value will always be in high demand. 

And when leaders start seeing the flattening limitations of the all-AI approach, along with its accompanying embarrassing gaffes and plagiarism suits, then the value of skilled speechwriters and creative people in general will simply be reinforced.

Who Could — or Should — Take the Challenge?

Who do you think could take my test and succeed? Who couldn’t? 

Tag a leader; someone you believe has, or should have, the ability to step away from the script and truly own their words. 

While you’re at it, think of an organization that could host this big leadership communications event. Maybe TED could take this on — give it the breath of fresh air it desperately needs. Or maybe Davos, the Shangri-La of the Scripted.

Sorry, I don’t have a neat conclusion that circles back to the intro — except maybe the bit about the dictator and the indulgences. That was nice.