AI would sink that canoe: The Ethics of Illustrating Communities and Culture

Screenshots from Ronnie Reimers post on AI images used in the Miss Marshall Islands pageant.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

As an editor, writer, and translator, I’ve been experimenting with AI—not because I think it’s a replacement for artists or because it makes my work easier. I wanted to understand what its possibilities actually are. It does not make the worker easier or faster. I was hoping it could do more with images. I used to use Illustrator and Photoshop all the time but I just can’t pay the monthly subscription for Adobe Creative Suites. I liked the idea that maybe we could create our own glossy cartoons with kids that look Marshallese and not just vaguely Hawaiian. So, this summer, I worked with some students to explore options for visual storytelling. You might also have noticed that I’ve labeled some of the headline images as AI-assisted illustrations.

The student postcard series was a success. After some experimenting, we made cartoon illustrations of each student with a greeting in their island languages with an photo that they chose from their home island. We were really happy with the series. AI can be useful, but it isn’t magic. The best results came only after providing very specific prompts, reference photos, and source material. You can’t just say “add Marshallese flowers” and expect something culturally accurate. Careful that it doesn’t add Chuukese motifs to a postcard of the Marshall Islands, or add Marshallese flowers to a postcard of a waterfall in Haiti.

I’ve learned that AI is only as good as the cultural knowledge you put into it—and even then, it still gets things wrong.

One of the best examples came from the recent discussion about the Miss Marshall Islands pageant artwork. Ronnie Reimers pointed out that the illustration distorted the 24-point star on the Marshall Islands flag, altered the National Seal, and even created a canoe that, in his words, “as soon as wind blows on that sail, Moana is going straight down to meet Lobaibaat.” https://www.facebook.com/20531316728/posts/10154009990506729/

It was funny—but it also made an important point.

Those aren’t just artistic details. They’re cultural knowledge.

At Chikin Melele, we’ve spent far more time telling AI what not to do than asking it what to create. Don’t alter the photographs. Don’t invent people. Don’t change the flag. Don’t add U.S. seals where they don’t belong. Don’t change the shape of a fan or change the details on a jaki.

One time it replaced Kathy Jetñil-Kijiner with another Marshallese woman just when I was splicing three photos together and adding text. Another time it invented a crew for the MV Meram. I’ve had to tell it repeatedly not to “improve” photographs because it starts hallucinating details that were never there.

Ironically, after we published a video illustrating the fire aboard the MV Meram, some people accused us of using AI to fabricate the footage. We hadn’t. We sourced verified photos from government sources and used conventional video editing tools to create a visualization and clearly labeled it as such because, obviously, no one escaping a burning ship out at sea stopped to take a selfie. Good journalism sometimes requires visual explanation—but it also requires transparency about what is real and what has been recreated (as with any illustration).

Working in translation has probably made me more sensitive to these issues than most. Every day I work with translators trying to preserve the meaning of their languages and represent cultures faithfully. Not just Marshallese and Chuukese translation but also Tuvaluan, Rotuman, Solomon Pijin, and Fiji Hindi. A single word can change meaning. A single mark can matter. A language name, an inclusive pronoun, a place name, a chiefly title, or the direction of a canoe sail all carry knowledge that outsiders often don’t recognize.

Images deserve that same care.

When AI draws the Marshall Islands flag incorrectly or invents an official seal, it’s the visual equivalent of misspelling someone’s name or publishing the wrong translation. Other people wouldn’t notice, but the people who belong (who it represents) of course notice.

That doesn’t mean AI has no place. I’ve actually found it incredibly useful for brainstorming ideas, testing concepts, thinking through possible translation approaches, and writing story pitches. I’ve followed (and commissioned) a Māori artist who intentionally trains AI on his own work so he remains the author of what the technology produces. I think that’s a fascinating direction.

But for me, AI is still just a tool like Photoshop and Grammarly. A tool that requires some thought also about cost, public good and environmental impact. If it’s something I can do myself, I will. If it’s something I can pay someone in the community to do, I will. If it allows us to improve consistency across translations or tell stories that we just couldn’t tell before, let’s do it.

I’m still saving up to commission original artwork from artists like Debby, Chewy, and Ronnie whose lived experience, cultural knowledge, and artistic voices simply can’t be replicated by a prompt.

Until then, I’ll keep experimenting, keep learning, and keep checking every flag, every seal, every canoe, every caption, every translation, and every image.

Just see what it did when I took screenshots for the headline image (above) and asked it to just splice the screenshots together. Who the heck is that guy?! It’s definitely not Ronnie Reimers. They spelled his name wrong too. (Okay, I probably spelled his name wrong, but I can’t even edit this image.) And, is that canoe supposed to be Chikin Melele’s logo? The logo that Ronnie designed for us?! Not even.

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