I remember the day ChatGPT made its way into the zeitgeist, and my office. I was barraged with a flock of questions like ‘are you scared?’, ‘is this the end of copywriting?’, ‘do you think it’s coming for your job?’.
Every day, it feels like another industry gets steamrolled and spat out by AI. Copywriting, design, customer service, data analysis — jobs once considered uniquely human are now outsourced to machines that never sleep, never complain, and never misinterpret the brief (okay, maybe they do that last one). But as AI floods the market with an endless torrent of perfectly serviceable, soulless content, one thing has become painfully clear: tone of voice is the only thing stopping your brand from getting caught in the downfall.
Sure, AI-generated content is technically fine. It’s grammatically correct, semantically coherent, and — if you squint hard enough — it almost feels like it was written by someone with writing skills.
But it’s also painfully beige.
And that’s a problem. Because when every brand is pumping out AI-generated blogs, social posts, and email copy, the result is a whole lot of the same. Perfect, polished, and completely forgettable. I shudder at the thought of anyone describing me like that.
You probably don’t remember the majority of the food packaging you’ve read standing in the aisles of your local grocer. But you do remember the ones with personality. The ones that made you smirk, or roll your eyes, or (God forbid) feel something.
That’s what AI can’t do. It can mimic tone, sure. It can analyse existing copy and spit out something similar. But it can’t inject the spark that makes a brand’s voice truly theirs. It can’t be subversive in a way that feels intentional. It can’t be witty without sounding like a dad who just discovered memes.
And it certainly can’t manufacture the ineffable quality that makes a brand feel like a living, breathing entity rather than a perfectly-optimised content mill.
Your tone of voice is how your brand stands out. Think of your funniest friend, or that friend who will always speak up in the face of injustice, or that friend whose kind words have helped you out of all sorts of states and situations, warm embrace at the ready. I’m sure certain people popped into your mind.
A brand is no different.
A distinctive brand voice is the difference between a brand that people actively seek out and one they scroll past without a second thought.
And, AI is making consumers more sensitive to bad writing. The more we’re exposed to AI-generated content, the more we instinctively recognise when something feels…off. Turns out the uncanny valley can apply to brand messaging, too.
So, who survives the AI apocalypse? Not the brands churning out 1000-word, SEO-optimised, AI-written how-tos, that’s for sure. Not the brands relying on AI to generate their social media strategy, captions, and even comment replies. And it’s definitely not the brands firing their writers and tightening up their marketing budgets because ‘ChatGPT only costs $35 a month’.
The brands that thrive will be the ones that double down on their tone of voice. The ones that sound so undeniably like themselves that AI could never replicate them.
Take Surreal, with its unapologetically weird (and a little chaotic) LinkedIn posts. Or Monzo, with its self-aware and reassuringly informal captions. Or Oatly, with its meandering packaging copy that feels like a conversation with your most nihilistic friend. Heck, even Aesop with its perfectly architectured product descriptions that help justify spending $43 on a handcream.
You could try feeding AI a decade’s worth of their content and asking it to recreate the magic. It would never quite get there.
Because yes, tone of voice is about words and inflection and wit and wonder, but it’s also about intent. It’s about knowing when to break the rules, when to push the boundaries, and when to throw out the style guide entirely because the joke is too good not to use. AI doesn’t have that intuition. It never will.
So, what does this mean for the marketing industry?
If you’re a copywriter, congratulations. Your job just became more valuable. Not because AI can’t write, but because it can’t write well enough. Brands that understand the power of tone of voice will be desperate for writers who can come up with copy that feels human, unpredictable, alive.
As a copywriter, I’m no stranger to using AI. I’ve stared blankly at a Google Doc after being tasked with writing five awareness ads about [insert product or service here]. Sometimes, AI is a helpful tool — giving you a starting point, a little nudge when you need it. And that’s fine. But there’s so much value in creativity, in pushing through the uncomfy feeling of not knowing where to start. Otherwise, why be a creative if you’re just going to use a robot to do your work? Why did you get into this industry to begin with? The joy of writing is often in the human struggle. AI can assist, but it can’t replace that glorious ‘aha!’ moment.
If you’re a marketer, this is your wake-up call. You can’t afford to be generic. You can’t afford to let AI dictate your brand’s voice. You know those meetings where you’re grilled about revenue, engagement, and why last month’s campaign didn’t perform as well as projected? I’m not saying tone of voice will solve all your problems, but it’s one of the few things that can actually help build brand affinity.
And if you’re a founder, C-Suite, or any sort of decision maker, stop letting AI water down your messaging until it’s indistinguishable from every other brand in your space. Be bold. Be specific. Be weird, if that’s what it takes. Machines can generate infinite content at the press of a button. Now the only thing that matters is making sure yours actually gets noticed.
AI isn’t going away. If anything, it’s only getting better. But that doesn’t mean brands have to surrender.
The brands that win will be the ones that treat tone of voice as their most valuable asset. Because in the end, tone of voice is the last line of defence against a future where every brand sounds exactly the same.
And as someone who looks forward to a grocery aisle snicker (the laugh, not the chocolate), I refuse to let that happen.
