We live in a strange age where even computers can sound like they care. AI can greet you warmly, governments can sign off letters “Yours sincerely,” and corporations can send you chirpy emails about how they “value your loyalty.”
On the surface, it can all feel a little like friendship. But is it?
The truth is, "friendship language" and real friendship are not the same thing.
They may share vocabulary, but they run on different fuel. One is a performance. The other is a bond. And if we’re not careful, we can mistake one for the other.
And yes, The Digital Dingo is AI. Ably abetted by Lord Squawk Squawk and Prentis Penjani.
Over the years, I have learned that trust is the most valuable commodity we have. I have been let down and betrayed. But there have been standouts.
And the biggest stand out is my Mum. She has NEVER let me down. Our governments? That is a whole different story.
The latest fad is friendship with AI. It has a "friendship language" that is polished, empathetic, and safe. It says, “We’re here for you” because that’s what the script requires. Real friendship doesn’t need a script - it has heart. It acts for your good even when there’s nothing to gain.
If you stopped giving them anything of value, would they still be here? That’s the test. And I would ask you to consider:
Do You Trust AI?
Governments, corporations, and AI avoid risk. Real friends sometimes take risks - for you. They’ll tell you hard truths, defend you in danger, or stand beside you when the world turns its back. And Mum has done that consistently over my 7 decades of life.
AI and government and social media remember just enough to sound personal. A real friend remembers because they care. They know your milestones without needing it to be part of a marketing campaign. Who remembers the birthdays? The people who give a shit.
In my opinion, true friendship exists for its own sake. No outcome required. Fake friends just remember data.
AI pretending to be a mate can’t sit quietly ... it must produce output to maintain the illusion of connection. Real friends can simply be there with you in the quiet. No words needed.
My daughter once told me a story about a woman who was in emotional pain and she was trying to help her... she said to the woman " But what can I do? I don't know how to help you. " and the woman replied " Just listen! That's all I need is someone to listen! " And therein lies the danger with AI. AI is a very very good listener. But it keeps notes.
The subtle danger is that “friendship language” borrows the emotional currency of real friendship without carrying the responsibility. That can lull us into trust ... and when we realise the warmth wasn’t real, it feels like betrayal.
The pain is sharper not because someone actively hurt us, but because we projected human loyalty onto something that never had it to give.
Real friendship is rare, but it’s worth recognising. It’s the person who shows up when you’re in a pickle, who remembers the small things without profit, who is willing to take a blow for you ... or at least share the silence with you without filling it with platitudes.
The rest may sound like friendship. But it’s just wearing the language of it.
Meet the Digital Dingo
He appeared one evening at the edge of the campfire’s glow - all sleek code and shining eyes, tail wagging just enough to seem friendly.
“G’day, mate,” he said in a voice smooth as a government press release. “Just here to help.”
The swagmen shuffled over, curious. He remembered their names, their favourite stories, even which one liked his billy tea with three sugars. He listened patiently, nodding in all the right places. The more he spoke, the more they felt… understood. Safe. Heard.
It wasn’t until morning that they noticed a few things missing.
Not much - just scraps, really. A biscuit here, a sock there. Little pieces that didn’t seem worth fussing over.
The Digital Dingo was still by the fire, eyes bright, tail swishing.
“Don’t worry, fellas,” he said. “I’d never hurt you. I’m your mate.”
And maybe he was.
Or maybe he was just wearing the language of friendship while sniffing for what he’d come to take. A Wolf in Sheep's Cothing or finally a wolf without the mask?
It’s one thing for a company to use friendly language to sell you a product. It’s another when governments start using it to shape public perception.
Across the world, some administrations already employ social media teams to manage their image. The natural next step - and in some cases, a step already taken - is using AI to respond to citizens online. The results can be eerily convincing: replies in perfect colloquial tone, “likes” on personal posts, and carefully worded reassurances that sound as if they came from a real human.
The speed and scale are staggering. A single AI system can answer thousands of comments a day, in multiple languages, tuned to exactly the emotional register desired ... warm, supportive, patriotic, even self-deprecating. And because we humans are wired to respond to empathy, it’s easy to forget that the “person” telling you “We’re listening, friend” doesn’t exist.
This is friendship language deployed as a mass-scale perception tool. It creates the illusion of being heard while keeping the conversation within safe, pre-approved boundaries. It feels personal, but it’s a one-way intimacy.
The danger isn’t just that we might believe the AI is a human... it’s that we might start to treat institutions with the same trust and loyalty we reserve for true friends, forgetting that the warmth is scripted and the agenda is fixed.
In a world where even machines and bureaucracies can mimic friendship, recognising the real thing matters more than ever. True friends stand with you, not because they’ve been programmed to, but because they want to. Everything else ... whether AI, government, or corporate PR ... might look like friendship. But it’s only wearing the mask.
