Phillip Kemp The Human Paper RADAR The Human Paper

RADAR · 22 July 2026 · 5 min read

Everything New Is Old Again

Every AI product that looks revolutionary is actually a familiar business model wearing a chatbot. RPA became agents. Surveillance became memory. Creator economy became likeness economy. The interface changed. The…


By Phillip Kemp · Founder of WE ARE STILL HUMAN

All writing

Two women hold each other in a long, eyes-closed embrace in warm evening light beside a lake.
Photograph — Mental Health America (MHA) / Pexels. Documentary image; no person pictured is a WASH signatory.

Let’s talk about why the most revolutionary AI product of the year looks a lot like something we already fired a decade ago.

I have been watching a pattern repeat. And it is getting harder to ignore because the pitch gets better every time.

Here is what happens. A company claims it has reinvented a category with AI. The demo is smooth. The language is fresh. The founder talks about paradigm shifts and agentic workflows and reasoning layers.

Then you look at what it actually does. And you realize you have seen this before.

The interface changed. The incentive did not.

Let me give you the ones I keep noticing.

Robotic process automation. RPA. The market that spent a decade automating screen scraping and calling it digital transformation. It failed because the workflows were brittle, the maintenance was brutal, and nobody wanted to admit they had built a thousand little scripts that broke every time a vendor updated a form.

Now we call them AI agents. Same promise. Same structural problem. Agents that book meetings, fill forms, move data between systems. Only now the demos are prettier and the pitch says reasoning instead of rules.

The operator lesson is uncomfortable. Agents will hit the same wall RPA hit. They will work in controlled demos and fail in production because the real world is messy, permissions are inconsistent, and the last mile of autonomous action is always human liability. The companies that survive will be the ones that design for exceptions, not the ones that promise full autonomy.

Here is another one.

Personalization used to be a feature. Then it became surveillance dressed as convenience. Now it is being rebranded as memory.

The pitch sounds generous. Your AI remembers everything. Your preferences, your history, your conversations, your taste. It gets you. It anticipates. It finishes your sentences.

What is actually happening is the same data extraction model that surveillance capitalism perfected, now wrapped in a friendly voice with a long context window. The difference is the interface. The incentive is identical. Collect everything, never let it leave, deepen the switching cost with every interaction.

The operator lesson here is that memory is the new vendor lock-in. Not files. Not APIs. Memory. The cost of leaving a platform that remembers five years of your context is not technical. It is emotional. It is the loss of a relationship you built with a machine. That is the moat. And it is harder to break than any proprietary file format.

Another reskin I watch closely.

The creator economy became the likeness economy.

A few years ago, platforms convinced creators to give them content in exchange for reach. Now they are convincing creators to give them their voice, their face, their mannerisms in exchange for AI-generated scale.

Same deal. Different asset class. The platform gets permanent, transferable, commercially valuable intellectual property. The creator gets reach they cannot monetize on their own terms. The contracts are worse this time because the asset being licensed is not a video file. It is a biometric profile that can generate infinite content without the creator ever sitting in front of a camera.

The operator lesson. If you are a creator who licenses your likeness to a platform, read the termination clause. If they can continue generating with your trained model after you leave, you did not sell content. You sold a permanent copy of your face.

Digital twins.

This one is still early but the pattern is already visible. What starts as a personal AI assistant becomes a simulation of you that the company owns. Every email you write, every decision you make, every meeting you summarize feeds a model that behaves like you.

The pitch is convenience. The outcome is a corporate-owned copy of your judgment that works without you. The reskin is familiar. It is the same move platforms pulled with your social graph, your search history, your location data. Only this time the asset is not data about you. It is a functioning simulation of your thinking.

The operator lesson. If you are building or buying agent software, the question is not whether the agent performs. The question is what happens to the model after you stop paying. Does it get destroyed, or does it become a product the company sells to your competitors?

Here is the thing about all of these.

They are not scams. They are not even bad products in isolation. Many of them deliver real utility. The problem is the incentive structure underneath the fresh paint.

Every one of these reskins follows the same logic. Find a relationship where the user gives something valuable and gets convenience in return. Automate the giving. Deepen the dependency. Make the exit hurt. Rebrand it every three years when the old language becomes toxic.

That is why I find this pattern important to name. Because the AI hype cycle makes it hard to remember that most of the dynamics are older than the technology.

The interface changed. The incentive did not.

If you are an operator building in this space, the winning move is not to build a better reskin. It is to build the thing that lets people leave without losing their context. Portable memory. Transferable proof. Revocable access.

Because the next wave of products will be even more convincing. And the reskin strategy only works if we keep forgetting what the last version looked like.

We are still human. The machine gets a new interface every cycle. That does not mean we have to pretend we do not recognize the game.

You have got this.

THE WASH TIMES · Speculative fiction · 2037

She Signed. It Kept Her.

THE WASH TIMES

LISBON · 3 NOVEMBER 2037

Mara Silva cut hair in a shop. In 2035 she signed a deal with a video app. The app paid her 300 euros. In return, it filmed her face and voice for two days.

On Tuesday 3 November 2037, a work board said the deal was fair. The rule was simple: if you sign, the copy is theirs. No one stopped it. It saved money and kept cases short.

Mara is 56. She lost her job to a cheaper screen version of herself. The app still uses her face. She gets no pay from it. Her rent rose this month.

This is fiction. It is a warning, not a report. No person, place or institution in it is real. Derived from “0050 — Everything New Is Old Again”.

The manifesto

Technology should disappear. Humanity should flourish.

Read the manifesto