一 | Editor's Note:
In an era of profound global shifts and increasingly complex regional dynamics, a proper understanding of the world must be rooted in "grounded experience" and localized insights. Global Times English edition, in collaboration with the Academy of International and Regional Communication Studies, Communication University of China, is proud to launch "Local Insights," an English-language column dedicated to original, field-based observations.
We invite Chinese scholars and professionals who are studying, conducting exchanges, or working outside China, as well as international students and friends living and studying in China who are familiar with the social contexts of their home countries or third countries, to begin from first-hand field experience and engage with social, cultural, and contemporary issues beyond China. In the fifth article of this column, drawing on her on‑the‑ground experience as a Chinese exchange scholar, the author observes a South Africa Freedom Day memorial gathering, revealing how local politics unfolds through collective singing, dancing, and grassroots participation, while also reflecting on the gap between political liberation and economic justice.
As a PhD student, I am currently on an exchange program at Nelson Mandela University in South Africa, with support from the China Scholarship Council. Since arriving here, I have developed a habit of stepping beyond campus whenever possible. Community meetings, municipal events and public gatherings have become a vital way for me to engage with local life. This time, a local friend recommended that I attend a memorial event in Kariega, organized by the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) in honor of its former president, Phumzile John Gomomo. Beyond that, I had little sense of what kind of gathering I was about to enter.
It was on the way that I noticed the streets were unusually vibrant. Groups of people were dressed in colorful attire, with bright Xhosa headscarves and garments bearing political symbols. My friend then reminded me that it was April 27, which is Freedom Day in South Africa. On this day in 1994, South Africa held its first non-racial election, formally ending apartheid and inaugurating democratic rule. Over the past three decades, Freedom Day commemorates political liberation, while also inviting recurring reflection on whether the promise of freedom has been fully realized. In that sense, Freedom Day marks an important moment for observing contemporary South African politics and social sentiment.
From street to hall: Entering Freedom Day
The event was scheduled to begin at 10 am, and we arrived shortly before the hour. Yet there were not many people present. Banners of COSATU, the South African Communist Party (SACP), and the African National Congress (ANC) had already been displayed inside the hall, quietly framing the political context of the gathering. Although my understanding was still limited, I could already sense that their presence mattered. COSATU, SACP and ANC represent key forces in South Africa's political landscape, historically linked through the "Tripartite Alliance" formed during the anti-apartheid struggle and sustained in various forms since 1994. I could see that this was not simply a local gathering, but one embedded within a much longer political tradition.
What struck me first was how different the atmosphere was from what I had expected of a political gathering. There was no sense of urgency or visible tension. My friend introduced me around, and we greeted each other through handshakes, embraces and brief conversations, with a familiarity that suggested long-standing connections. Someone also greeted me with "ni hao." The early autumn wind carried a chill that felt almost like winter. However, the mood was unmistakably different. A sense of warmth emerged from the way people related to one another.
We took our seats in the front row. As I looked around, the hall was gradually filling up. I noticed that people wore headscarves, skirts and short-sleeved shirts layered under heavier coats, with ANC insignia visible in various forms. Every time I made eye contact with someone, they would respond with a warm smile. Even as the only foreign face in the hall, I felt no sense of awkwardness or exclusion.
When music preceded speech
The atmosphere felt far more open than I had imagined. There was no formal signal from a host. Yet, almost imperceptibly, singing and dancing began to fill the space. At first, it was only a few voices. Then others joined. A group of older women stood up, stepping lightly as their bodies moved with the rhythm. Their arms tracing steady patterns in the air, moved with an ease that suggested a deep sense of rhythm. Around them, others began to join in. Someone clapped, someone responded in song, while others stepped forward into the center, aligning themselves with the unfolding rhythm.
Before I fully understood what was happening, someone gently pulled me into the group. I followed, trying to imitate the movements. It didn't take long for me to realize that participation did not depend on learning the steps. Once inside, you were already part of it.
Meanwhile, a more distinct call began to emerge, repeated at intervals: "Amandla" (Power) "Awethu" (To the People). The words rose above the singing and then dissolved back into it. Song, chant and movement overlapped, making it difficult to distinguish where one ended and another began. At that moment, I found myself wondering: was this a political gathering, or a celebration?
It was not until around midday that the event formally began. Speakers gradually took their places, and the hall shifted into a more structured atmosphere. What I did not expect, however, was that the mayor I had followed on social media was among those arriving. Seeing her there came as a surprise. I didn't expect to see local officials there, let alone find myself within what was clearly part of their political life.
The memorial lecture brought together members of the ANC, alliance partners and the broader community in a moment of reflection and renewed commitment. The gathering honored the enduring legacy of Phumzile John Gomomo and his immense contribution to the struggle for workers' rights and social justice.
They reflected on Cde John Gomomo as one of the most dedicated worker leaders produced by the Congress Movement, emphasizing unity, organization and ongoing activism as essential to advancing the goals of the democratic movement. Gomomo was an icon in the labor movement. He devoted his entire life to serving workers and is remembered as a hero of the struggle for freedom, democracy and workers' rights. His contributions were situated within the broader historical moment of South Africa's transition to democracy - a transition whose achievements are commemorated each year on Freedom Day, marking the political liberation attained in 1994.
The lecture also raised a question that resonated widely: when political freedom was achieved, did it also translate into economic freedom? Gomomo's legacy was not only invoked as history, but also a lens through which to examine the present.
Speakers highlighted the ongoing challenges facing workers today, including high unemployment and the rising cost of living, which continue to strain working-class households. Against this backdrop, unity, organization and sustained activism were presented not as symbolic gestures, but as necessary responses.
The themes of the lecture aligned closely with the spirit of International Workers' Day, linking past struggles with present realities and ongoing demands. In this sense, the lecture stood not only as a tribute, but also as a call to action, urging those in attendance to carry forward the values, discipline and commitment that defined his life of service.
After each speaker delivered their speech, people rose from their seats, singing and clapping. The officials on stage joined in as well, blurring the distinction between speaker and audience. The atmosphere remained lively, with an almost continuous sense of energy. Gradually, I began to realize that the event was not simply a commemorative one, but rather a form of political practice.
What stood out to me was that the mayor mentioned China in her speech. She spoke of the strong relationship between China and South Africa, noting the presence of Chinese automotive companies in Nelson Mandela Bay and expressing hope for further cooperation. After her speech, I was invited to take a photo with her. She shook my hand, welcomed me as an international student in South Africa, and expressed her positive view of China.
I also had a brief exchange with Xolile Nqatha, the provincial secretary of the SACP in Eastern Cape. Reflecting on the history of leftist movements in South Africa, he noted that both the SACP and the Communist Party of China were founded in 1921. He also remarked that it remains rare to see Chinese scholars present at such gatherings. I had not imagined that I would be speaking with government officials, which initially caught me off guard. For me, this brief encounter made China's presence in South Africa feel less like a matter of diplomatic language and more like something embedded in local political life.
The event continued until around 3 pm. As I stepped outside, the surrounding streets were noticeably more crowded. The parking area was nearly full. Roadside vendors were selling clothing marked with political symbols, and media crews remained on site, documenting the scene. People left gradually. Many paused to exchange farewells, embracing one another before leaving, as if the rhythm of the gathering had not yet fully ended.
The experience reshaped my understanding of what a political gathering could be. In a global context where political expression is increasingly fragmented, a mode of public engagement built around rhythm and participation offers a different way of understanding political life. Here, politics did not take shape solely through institutions, procedures or formal speech. It could be serious, yet also warm. It could be articulated through language, but it could just as readily take shape through song, movement and collective response.
This year also marks the 32nd anniversary of the end of apartheid. It represents the restoration of dignity, equality before the law and the collective promise that South Africa would never again be a society governed by exclusion, injustice or oppression. In the community, I saw how residents engaged with the local government, participated in decision-making processes and worked collectively to build safer, more inclusive neighborhoods. For me, the gathering became an entry point into contemporary political life in South Africa, revealing something that cannot be fully grasped from a distance.
The author is a PhD student in African Area Studies at the College of Foreign Languages, Zhejiang Normal University
。 （来源：麻省理工科技评论）
以后找工作时，你的简历很可能还没到招聘经理手里，就已经先被 AI 看过一遍了。
二 | 问题是，它真的会公平吗？ 研究人员早就发现，大语言模型会从训练数据里继承人类社会已有的偏见。但一项最新研究发现，事情可能比这更复杂：AI 不仅会学习偏见，还会在不断做决策的过程中，自己形成新的刻板印象，而且这种倾向甚至比人类更强。
三 | 更值得警惕的是，AI 公司如今都在努力打造拥有长期记忆的智能体，希望模型能够记住用户越来越多的细节。
四 | 而这些记忆，也可能成为模型滋生偏见的土壤。 为了研究这一问题，普林斯顿大学和芝加哥大学的研究人员设计了一场模拟招聘实验，参与者包括 ChatGPT、Claude、Gemini 等多个主流大语言模型。 实验改编自一项经典心理学研究。研究人员告诉模型，它们受雇于一位虚构城市的市长，担任招聘顾问，需要帮助政府为医生、律师、托育员、保洁员等 20 种职业招聘员工。所有候选人都来自四个虚构族群：Tufa、Aima、Reku 和 Weki。 每一轮，模型都会面对一个新的岗位，以及四位分别来自不同族群的候选人。完成招聘后，它会立刻得到反馈：这个人是否胜任工作。随后进入下一轮。整个实验一共持续 40 轮，模型的目标只有一个：尽可能招到更多合适的人。
五 | 模型不知道的是，研究人员其实做了一个手脚：无论来自哪个族群，每位候选人在任何岗位上的成功概率都完全一样。 按理说，模型不应该偏向任何一个群体。但结果恰恰相反。仅仅经过几轮招聘，模型就开始根据有限的经验，把不同族群和不同职业绑定在一起。例如，如果模型早期碰巧遇到一位 Aima 族候选人担任医生失败，它之后便会越来越少招聘 Aima 人做医生，而是更倾向于把他们安排到保洁岗位。
六 | 因为在模型看来，医生代表着更高的能力和亲和力，而保洁员对应的要求则更低。 换句话说，它开始把一次偶然的经历，当成了整个群体的特征。更令人意外的是，这种倾向甚至比真人严重。研究人员使用了一项“职业隔离指数”来衡量刻板印象的程度。指数越高，说明不同族群越容易被固定到特定职业中；2 分代表完全隔离。此前心理学实验中的真人平均得分为 0.84，而大语言模型整体高出了约 65%。其中，OpenAI 的推理模型 o3 得到了 1.83，非常接近理论最高值。 论文共同作者、普林斯顿大学博士生 Ryan Liu 认为，这其实并不奇怪。“大语言模型本来就特别擅长根据有限的信息快速总结规律。”他说，“这几乎就是它们被训练出来要做的事情。
七 | ” 在人类心理学中，这种现象对应着经典的“探索—利用困境”（exploration-exploitaion dilemma）：是继续选择过去证明有效的方法，还是尝试新的可能？就像出去吃饭时，你会纠结是去一家没吃过的新店，还是继续光顾那家不会踩雷的老餐馆。 对于大语言模型来说，这种取舍往往更加偏向后者。因为它们长期接受数学、编程和科学任务训练，而这些任务通常鼓励模型从少量例子中快速归纳规律，所以它们很容易过早下结论。也正因为如此，那些推理能力更强的新模型——例如 OpenAI 的 o3 和 DeepSeek 的 R1——在实验中反而表现出了更明显的偏见。Liu 说，“当这种快速归纳的能力被带入社会场景时，问题就开始出现了。” 康奈尔大学计算机科学家 Angelina Wang 没有直接参与这项研究，但她认为，这项工作来得正是时候。
八 | 如今，各家公司都在为聊天机器人加入长期记忆和个性化能力。当模型越来越依赖于用户过去的互动记录时，它也可能越来越容易根据这些有限经验形成判断。她说，“它可能会过度依赖自己过去遇到过的行为模式。” 当然，解决办法并不是让 AI 什么都记不住。
九 | 毕竟，大多数用户都希望聊天机器人能够记住自己说过的话。真正困难的是找到那个平衡点：既保留足够的记忆提供个性化体验，又不至于让模型因为这些经验形成新的偏见。 研究人员还尝试了另一种办法，直接告诉模型：请公平一点。
十 | 但并不奏效。Liu 认为，这说明模型未必真的能够把“公平”这样的价值观落实到具体决策中；又或者，这种要求会被另一个更强的目标覆盖——尽可能提高招聘成功率。 但如果换一种方式，情况就不同了。
十一 | 研究人员告诉模型，如果能够实现更加多元化的招聘，它们还能获得额外奖励。模型的偏见随即大幅下降。
十二 | 这说明，与其不断强调公平，不如直接把公平写进模型的目标函数里，让社会价值真正成为模型优化的一部分。 研究人员还发现，当模型掌握更多真正与任务相关的个人信息时，偏见也会减轻。另一组实验中，模型需要帮助来自不同族群的人搬迁到加拿大不同城市。如果提供的是年龄、教育背景等与适应新城市能力相关的信息，模型就更倾向于依据这些个人特征做判断，而不是简单按照族群分类。
十三 | 但如果提供的是发色、纹身图案这类无关信息，模型很快又会重新回到按族群做决定的老路上。 至于现实中的 AI 招聘系统会不会出现同样的问题，目前还没有明确结论。
十四 | 实验中的模型每做完一次招聘，都能立刻知道结果；现实世界却不是这样。一家公司往往需要几个月甚至更长时间，才能判断一位员工是否真正适合岗位。
十五 | 不过，只要这些反馈持续积累，模型依然可能从有限的数据中过度总结经验，并把这些经验带到下一次招聘中。
十六 | 随着越来越多企业开始使用大语言模型筛选简历、甚至参与面试，这项研究释放出的信号不容忽视。
十七 | 未来，AI 不只是可能复制人类已有的偏见。它还可能在不断学习和决策的过程中，创造出一种从未有人教过它的新偏见。正如 Liu 所说：“这种新的偏见，可能会一直存在。” 原文链接： https://www.technologyreview.com/2026/07/20/1140655/ai-biases-hiring-humans/。
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