MEMBER 1

Welcome, everyone. I'm really glad you're here with us today because we’re talking about
something that’s not just fascinating, but honestly, kind of unsettling—the use of artificial
intelligence in hiring. Now, I know that sounds like a pretty technical topic, but trust me, it hits
much closer to home than we might think. Because this isn’t just about code or software—it’s
about fairness, about opportunity, and about how the tools we create can sometimes quietly
reinforce the very problems we’re trying to solve.

So, let’s talk about what actually happened. A few years ago, Amazon built an AI hiring tool to
automate recruitment. The idea was simple: feed the algorithm a ton of historical data about who
had applied and been hired in the past, and let it find patterns so it could recommend the best
new applicants. The problem? Most of the data came from resumes submitted over a ten-year
period—resumes that were overwhelmingly from men. Why? Because the tech industry,
historically and still today, is male-dominated. So the algorithm started to associate male-coded
language, experiences, and even formatting styles with “qualified” candidates. The AI literally
learned to downgrade resumes that included words like “women’s,” such as in “women’s chess
club captain.” It penalized graduates of all-women’s colleges. It didn’t decide to be sexist—it
was trained to be, by accident.

That’s the irony. We built a tool to make hiring more fair and efficient, and ended up creating a
system that reinforced and even amplified gender discrimination. From a utilitarian perspective,
which asks whether something produces the greatest good for the greatest number, this case
becomes really troubling. Because the AI did make hiring faster. It reduced workload. It
might’ve even cut some costs. But it did so at the expense of fairness. So we have to ask—was it
worth it? If something benefits the company but harms a whole group of people, especially one
already underrepresented like women in tech, is that really a net good? Or are we just prioritizing
convenience over justice?

It gets even more complicated when we start to question the foundation of the tool itself. And
here’s where I think the Socratic Method is really helpful. That method, at its core, is about
asking hard, uncomfortable questions to get closer to the truth. And in this case, the big question
we should be asking is: what was the real purpose of using AI in hiring? Was it to find the best
talent? Or was it to cut costs, speed things up, and reduce human responsibility? Because if the
system you’re using to make “objective” decisions is trained on subjective data—and no one
steps in to challenge it—then all you’ve done is automate your prejudice. If the past was biased,
and AI is learning from the past, then it’s not fixing anything. It’s just quietly carrying that bias
forward into the future.

This brings me to Rawls’ theory of justice, which is built around the idea of fairness. Rawls says
that in a just society, everyone should have equal opportunity, and any inequalities must benefit
the least advantaged. That’s a powerful idea. And in this case, the AI failed spectacularly. It
didn’t give everyone an equal shot—it actually widened the gap. It rewarded resumes that looked
like those from the past, which were mostly from men, and punished resumes that reflected
different life experiences or perspectives. So from a Rawlsian point of view, the system isn’t just
flawed. It’s unjust. It doesn’t meet the moral standard of fairness. And that’s a huge problem
when you’re talking about employment—because getting a job isn’t just about a paycheck. It’s
about opportunity, dignity, access to influence, and independence. When a system like this
quietly filters people out based on gendered patterns, it’s doing real harm.

And then we have Stuart Hall’s theory of representation, which adds another layer. Hall argued
that media and systems—like language, like culture, and yes, like algorithms—don’t just reflect
reality. They actually shape it. So when an AI system learns from a world that has historically
privileged male success stories, it learns that male equals capable, male equals professional, male
equals hireable. That’s not just about data—that’s about culture. The AI becomes a mirror of our
values, and if our values are flawed, the mirror reflects something ugly. Hall would probably say
that this hiring tool didn’t fail because it made mistakes—it failed because it reflected the
dominant discourse too well. It internalized the message that men belong in tech more than
women do.

So now let’s talk about bias—what it really means in this context, where it comes from, and how
it operates. Bias here isn’t someone actively saying, “Let’s reject all the women.” It’s much more
insidious. It’s historical hiring practices that favored men. It’s job descriptions that use male-
coded language. It’s teams that have been mostly male for decades, and interview panels that
unconsciously prefer candidates who “feel like a culture fit”—which often means someone who
looks and talks like them. All of that goes into the data, and the data trains the AI. That’s how
you get an algorithm that reproduces a gender imbalance while claiming to be fair.

So here’s the hard truth: the AI didn’t invent discrimination. It simply digitized it. And because
we trust machines to be neutral, that discrimination became harder to see, harder to prove, and
harder to challenge. But it was there. It was always there. And unless we actively question and
dismantle those patterns, AI will continue to reflect and enforce them.

The bigger takeaway here is that the technology isn’t the problem. The problem is us—not just
as individuals, but as a society that hasn’t done the work to make our systems inclusive in the
first place. AI is just holding up a mirror. And we don’t always like what we see.

So let me leave this with a question—one I think we all need to sit with. If our data is already
biased—if it comes from a society that hasn’t truly achieved equality—can we ever build AI
that’s truly fair? Or are we just automating our injustices and calling them innovations?

[Member 2], I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. How do these gender biases specifically
affect women when it comes to hiring—and what should companies actually be doing to
confront them?
MEMBER 2
Thanks for that, and yeah—what you just described is exactly where the damage starts. And I
think it’s easy to assume that if an algorithm is doing the screening, it must be fair. But in reality,
it’s even more dangerous when bias is hidden behind something that looks objective. Because
that makes it harder to question. Harder to fight.

Let’s talk about how that bias directly affects women in hiring. When Amazon’s AI was trained
mostly on male resumes, what it was really learning was: “This is what success looks like.” And
if your experience didn’t match that picture—if you’d worked in women-led spaces, studied at a
women’s college, or even used words like “female leadership” or “women’s advocacy”—you
were quietly pushed aside. No red flags. No explanations. Just: not a fit. And imagine how
disheartening that is. You’re a qualified woman, maybe you’ve worked harder than most to get
where you are, and your resume is being rejected not because of who you are, but because the
system was never trained to value people like you.

From a Kantian ethics perspective, this is a huge moral failure. Kant says people should always
be treated as ends in themselves, never merely as means to an end. And in this case, women
weren’t being seen as individuals with value—they were being reduced to whether or not they fit
a male-dominated pattern. Their worth was being measured against a biased model of past
success. That’s not just inefficient. It’s unethical. It violates the very principle that every person
has inherent dignity. When a woman’s resume is discarded because she doesn’t check the same
boxes as a man from ten years ago, the system isn’t just making a mistake. It’s treating her as
disposable.

Now let’s bring in something we often overlook in Western ethics—Confucian ethics. This
tradition emphasizes harmony, respect in relationships, and the moral roles we each play in
society. Confucianism reminds us that every decision, even technical ones, affects the greater
social fabric. If a hiring algorithm quietly excludes women from jobs, it’s not just hurting
individual careers. It’s damaging families, communities, and the structure of society as a whole.
Confucian ethics would ask: Is this decision contributing to social harmony, or is it creating
imbalance? Are we fostering a society where all voices are valued—or are we reinforcing a
hierarchy where only some get heard?

These philosophical ideas aren’t just abstract—they play out in very real ways. Think about a
woman who keeps getting rejected from jobs and has no idea why. She’s told to “lean in,” to
“work harder,” maybe to polish her resume. But the problem isn’t her—it’s the system she’s
trying to enter. A system trained to prefer someone else. Someone with a name that sounds
familiar to the algorithm. Someone who played high school football, not someone who led the
girls’ robotics team. That kind of exclusion doesn’t just hurt careers—it chips away at
confidence, at trust, at fairness itself.

Rawlsian justice again becomes incredibly relevant here. Rawls argues that a fair society must
be structured in a way that provides genuine opportunity for all, regardless of arbitrary factors
like gender. If you can’t see how Amazon’s AI violated that, you’re not looking closely enough.
Women were denied opportunity not because they lacked skill, but because the system was
designed around male success stories. That’s the opposite of fairness. That’s a rigged game.

And we can’t ignore the role of Gender Theory here. Gender Theory helps us understand how
identities and power dynamics shape everything—from media to policy to technology. In the
case of AI, it explains why certain traits are coded as “professional” or “competent.” These traits
are often based on male norms—assertiveness, linear career paths, full-time availability with no
career gaps. But who defines those norms? Who benefits from them? Women’s experiences—
like taking time off for caregiving, working in female-led teams, or emphasizing collaboration
over competition—are often excluded from those definitions of success. And when you train AI
on biased historical data, those exclusions don’t just continue—they get amplified.

We like to think of data as neutral. But it’s not. Data is a reflection of who had access, who was
seen, and who got chosen. If that data is 80% male, the AI doesn’t just learn what a good
candidate looks like—it learns that a good candidate is probably a man. That’s not a glitch.
That’s a direct consequence of building systems on top of unequal histories.

This is what makes the idea of “male-dominated data” so important. It doesn’t mean men did
something wrong by applying for jobs. It means the system was built in a way that favored them
—and that favor got baked into the numbers. Then, when women entered the same space, they
were judged not on their potential, but on how well they matched a male-coded template. And
the frustrating thing is, they were never told that’s what was happening. No pop-up saying,
“Sorry, your profile doesn’t match the system’s preferred identity.” Just silence. Just rejection.

Now imagine that playing out at scale—not just at Amazon, but across the entire tech industry,
and finance, and healthcare, and education. If we keep using biased AI systems without critically
examining them, we’re not moving forward. We’re automating discrimination and pretending
we’ve solved the problem.

So what should companies do? First, they need to own the problem. No more hiding behind the
excuse of “the algorithm made me do it.” Algorithms don’t write themselves. They reflect human
choices—what data you include, what you optimize for, who gets a seat at the table during
development. Second, there has to be transparency. If an AI system is being used to decide
people’s futures, then those people deserve to know how it works. Period. And finally,
companies need to include diverse voices—not just in the data, but in the design teams, the
review boards, the leadership decisions. Because if the people building the tools all come from
the same perspective, the tools are going to serve only that perspective.

We can’t fix bias by pretending it’s not there. We have to face it. Interrogate it. And actively
design systems that challenge, not reproduce, the inequalities of the past.

And that brings me to a bigger question that I think we all need to wrestle with—especially you,
[Member 3]. When AI causes discrimination, who should be held accountable? Is it the
developers? The company using the system? Or the AI itself? Because right now, we’re letting a
lot of people off the hook—and real lives are being affected.
MEMBER 3
That’s such an important question, and honestly, it’s one that more people need to be asking.
When something like this happens—when an AI system causes harm, discriminates, shuts people
out—who's actually responsible? It’s easy to blame the technology. “Oh, it’s the algorithm.” “It
was just a flaw in the model.” But algorithms don’t make themselves. They don’t decide on their
own which data to learn from or which patterns to follow. People do. So when AI leads to
discrimination, the accountability shouldn’t disappear—it should become sharper, more direct.

And I think the reason we struggle with this is that there’s a kind of myth around AI, this idea
that it’s neutral or beyond human judgment. Like it exists in a vacuum, floating above bias. But
as we’ve already seen, that’s just not true. AI reflects the structures and values of the people who
build it. So when bias shows up in the output—when qualified women are pushed aside because
the system was trained to favor male-coded experiences—that’s not just a technical error. That’s
a failure of ethical responsibility.

This is where Deontological Ethics comes into play. According to deontological thinking, what
matters is not just the outcome of an action but whether the action itself aligns with moral duty.
So if you’re designing an AI system that’s going to make hiring decisions, your duty is to ensure
that system is fair, inclusive, and respectful of all individuals. That’s your job. It doesn’t matter if
the system “mostly works.” If it’s harming people in the process—if it’s reinforcing inequality—
then you’ve failed in your duty. Plain and simple.

And what makes this even more frustrating is that these systems are often built without enough
diversity in the room. That’s where Feminist Ethics becomes crucial. Feminist Ethics asks us to
consider: Whose perspectives are included in the decision-making process? Whose voices are
being prioritized, and whose are left out? If the team designing your AI tool is made up entirely
of people who’ve never experienced bias in the hiring process, chances are, they’re not going to
think about how bias might show up in the code. They might not even notice when it happens.
And that’s a problem.

Feminist ethics isn’t just about being inclusive for the sake of appearances. It’s about
recognizing that lived experience matters. That empathy matters. That fairness requires more
than just math—it requires listening. It requires understanding how different people move
through the world, and how systems might affect them differently. If women—and especially
women of color, queer women, disabled women—aren’t involved in building the systems that
determine who gets hired, then those systems are going to continue reproducing the same
injustices we already see in the world.

Now let’s take this a step further and bring in Marxist theory, which looks at how power and
class operate in society. In the context of AI hiring, Marx would argue that the technology is
being used not to make things fairer, but to serve the interests of capital—of profit, speed, and
control. The goal isn’t justice. It’s efficiency. Companies want to hire faster, spend less, cut out
the messiness of human judgment. And AI promises all of that. But what gets lost in the process
is humanity. Individuality. Complexity. When everything is reduced to patterns and probabilities,
people become just data points. And if the system sees some data points—say, resumes from
women—as less “reliable” or less “successful,” then those people are quietly pushed out. Not
because of what they’ve done, but because of how the system is built.

And again, we circle back to the question of bias. But this time, we see it not just as an error, but
as a symptom of a larger structure. A structure that values certain kinds of labor, certain ways of
thinking, certain identities—usually male, usually white, usually upper-middle class. That’s the
logic that Marxist theory helps uncover. It’s not just about who gets hired. It’s about whose labor
is seen as valuable in the first place. And when AI is built on data that reflects those existing
hierarchies, it doesn’t challenge them—it just automates them.

Gender Theory deepens that critique even more. It helps us see how ideas of gender are built
into the very definitions we use—what it means to be “professional,” “competent,” “leadership
material.” These are not neutral terms. They’re socially and culturally constructed. And they
often carry gendered expectations. Think about how assertiveness is praised in men but seen as
aggressive in women. Or how a man who’s confident is seen as capable, while a woman who’s
confident is sometimes called “too much.” These double standards get written into job
descriptions, performance evaluations—and yes, into AI systems.

So when an AI model ranks candidates, it’s not just looking at keywords or years of experience.
It’s reading between the lines. It’s picking up on all the subtle cues that we, as a society, have
coded into our understanding of success. And those cues are gendered. They’re racialized.
They’re classed. Which means the AI isn’t just filtering resumes. It’s filtering people—based on
the values it inherited from a world that still doesn’t treat everyone equally.

And that brings me back to the question of accountability. Because the moment we start letting
companies off the hook by saying “Oh, it was just the algorithm,” we’re setting a dangerous
precedent. We’re allowing harm to continue without consequence. And we’re telling the people
affected—especially women, especially marginalized folks—that their exclusion isn’t anyone’s
fault. That it’s just the way things are. But that’s not true. These systems were designed by
people. People made choices. People decided what data to use, what patterns to prioritize, what
metrics to optimize for. And if those choices lead to injustice, then people need to take
responsibility.

So what can we do about it? First, we need real transparency. If a company is using AI in hiring,
they need to be clear about how it works. What data is being used? What assumptions are baked
into the model? What kind of audits are being done to check for bias? Second, we need
regulation—real oversight, not just vague promises. Because self-regulation has never been
enough. And third, we need diversity—not just in who the systems are being tested on, but in
who’s building them in the first place. Because systems designed by only one type of person will
only serve one type of person.

All of this brings me to the next big question. [Member 4], I know you’ve been thinking a lot
about how we can actually reduce this bias. Not just point it out, but actively prevent it. What are
some real steps companies can take—early in the process, during development—to make sure
their AI systems are actually fair and inclusive? Because if we don’t start changing how these
systems are built, we’re going to keep ending up in the same place.
MEMBER 4
Thanks for that, and honestly, you’re so right—pointing out the bias isn’t enough anymore.
We’ve reached a point where the damage has been named, the patterns are visible, and now the
question becomes: what can we actually do about it? How do we build AI systems that don’t just
mirror the past but help move us toward something more fair, more inclusive?

So today, I want to talk about what it really means to mitigate bias in AI hiring—not just from a
technical perspective, but from an ethical one. Because this isn’t just a coding problem. It’s a
values problem. And we can’t fix it without asking: who are we designing these systems for, and
what kind of world are we trying to create with them?

Let’s start with Care Ethics, because I think it brings something really important to the table.
Care ethics is all about relationships, empathy, and attending to the needs of others, especially
those who are most vulnerable. When we think about AI systems, we don’t usually think in terms
of care. We think in terms of performance, optimization, outputs. But what if we flipped that?
What if our first design question wasn’t “how fast can this system sort resumes?” but “who
might this system harm?” or “whose needs are being overlooked here?” Care ethics pushes us to
center those questions. It reminds us that fairness isn't abstract—it’s personal. And when a hiring
algorithm quietly excludes women, or disabled candidates, or people from underrepresented
backgrounds, that’s not just a flaw in logic. It’s a failure to care.

So when we talk about mitigating bias, we have to start with building systems that are people-
centered. That means diverse development teams, inclusive data, and actual conversations with
the people most affected by these tools. It also means running ethical audits, not just
performance tests. We should be stress-testing these systems not just for speed, but for fairness.
We should be asking: who does well under this model, and who doesn’t? And why?

Of course, we can’t avoid the Utilitarian question here either. The promise of AI is often tied to
this idea of greater good—faster hiring, more consistency, less human error. That all sounds
great in theory. But utilitarianism also demands that we weigh the costs. So yes, maybe your AI
system can process a thousand resumes in a minute—but if it consistently downgrades qualified
women or people of color, is that really a net benefit? Is the time saved worth the opportunities
lost?

The utilitarian answer can only be “yes” if the system is helping more people than it harms. And
right now, in many cases, that’s just not happening. What we’re seeing instead is speed being
prioritized over equity, and profit being prioritized over people. And that brings me to something
Member 3 touched on—Marxist theory. Because this isn’t happening in a vacuum. The reason
companies rush to adopt AI tools—even flawed ones—is because they promise efficiency. And
efficiency, in a capitalist system, often means reducing labor costs, making quicker decisions,
and maximizing profit. So when these tools harm certain groups, the question becomes: is
anyone going to stop using them if they still serve the bottom line?
Marx would probably say no. He’d say these tools are working exactly as intended—
streamlining the process of choosing which bodies are most “useful” to the system, and quietly
discarding the rest. That’s why ethical mitigation has to go beyond fixing bugs. It has to
challenge the economic logic behind how these tools are used. We can’t just patch over injustice
—we have to rethink what we’re optimizing for.

And while we’re talking about deeper frameworks, I want to bring Stuart Hall back into the
conversation too. Hall talked about how meaning is created through representation—how we see
ourselves and others in the systems around us. AI systems don’t just process data; they
participate in this meaning-making. They tell a story about who is “qualified,” who is
“professional,” who is “leadership material.” And when that story is built on historical data from
male-dominated industries, it doesn’t leave much room for anyone else.

So part of mitigating bias means challenging those stories. It means rewriting what success looks
like. That might mean changing how resumes are evaluated—valuing nontraditional paths,
collaborative leadership styles, or community impact. It might mean questioning why gaps in
employment are penalized at all, when they often reflect real-life responsibilities like caregiving.
Hall’s theory reminds us that bias isn’t just statistical. It’s cultural. And if we want different
outcomes, we need different narratives.

Now, I know all of this sounds big—and it is. But there are real, concrete steps companies can
take. First, start with inclusive data. That means making sure your training sets represent the
diversity of the people you want your system to serve—not just in gender, but in race, age,
ability, and background. Second, commit to bias audits—not just once, but regularly. And not
just internally, but with external oversight. Transparency matters. Third, ensure that your
development teams are diverse, not as a checkbox, but as a necessity. People with different
lived experiences will catch things others won’t. And finally, create feedback mechanisms—
ways for applicants to report issues, appeal decisions, or at least understand how a system
evaluated them.

Bias isn’t always avoidable. But when it shows up, we should be able to see it, name it, and fix
it. That’s what fairness looks like in practice.

And I want to end on this: mitigation is not a one-time fix. It’s a mindset. A practice. A
commitment to doing better—not just because it’s good PR, but because people’s lives are being
shaped by these systems. Every time someone is denied a job because an algorithm didn’t “like”
a certain word or background, that’s a lost opportunity. That’s someone’s rent, someone’s career,
someone’s self-worth on the line. If we’re going to keep using AI in hiring, we owe it to
everyone to make sure those decisions are rooted in care, in ethics, and in justice—not just in
speed and savings.

And that brings me to you, [Member 5]. You’ve been looking at transparency—how companies
explain these systems, how they communicate decisions, and how much the public actually
knows about how these algorithms work. Can transparency really be enough to keep AI ethical?
Or do we need something more?
MEMBER 5

Thanks for that, and honestly, you’re so right—pointing out the bias isn’t enough anymore.
We’ve reached a point where the damage has been named, the patterns are visible, and now the
question becomes: what can we actually do about it? How do we build AI systems that don’t just
mirror the past but help move us toward something more fair, more inclusive?

So today, I want to talk about what it really means to mitigate bias in AI hiring—not just from a
technical perspective, but from an ethical one. Because this isn’t just a coding problem. It’s a
values problem. And we can’t fix it without asking: who are we designing these systems for, and
what kind of world are we trying to create with them?

Let’s start with Care Ethics, because I think it brings something really important to the table.
Care ethics is all about relationships, empathy, and attending to the needs of others, especially
those who are most vulnerable. When we think about AI systems, we don’t usually think in terms
of care. We think in terms of performance, optimization, outputs. But what if we flipped that?
What if our first design question wasn’t “how fast can this system sort resumes?” but “who
might this system harm?” or “whose needs are being overlooked here?” Care ethics pushes us to
center those questions. It reminds us that fairness isn't abstract—it’s personal. And when a hiring
algorithm quietly excludes women, or disabled candidates, or people from underrepresented
backgrounds, that’s not just a flaw in logic. It’s a failure to care.

So when we talk about mitigating bias, we have to start with building systems that are people-
centered. That means diverse development teams, inclusive data, and actual conversations with
the people most affected by these tools. It also means running ethical audits, not just
performance tests. We should be stress-testing these systems not just for speed, but for fairness.
We should be asking: who does well under this model, and who doesn’t? And why?

Of course, we can’t avoid the Utilitarian question here either. The promise of AI is often tied to
this idea of greater good—faster hiring, more consistency, less human error. That all sounds
great in theory. But utilitarianism also demands that we weigh the costs. So yes, maybe your AI
system can process a thousand resumes in a minute—but if it consistently downgrades qualified
women or people of color, is that really a net benefit? Is the time saved worth the opportunities
lost?

The utilitarian answer can only be “yes” if the system is helping more people than it harms. And
right now, in many cases, that’s just not happening. What we’re seeing instead is speed being
prioritized over equity, and profit being prioritized over people. And that brings me to something
Member 3 touched on—Marxist theory. Because this isn’t happening in a vacuum. The reason
companies rush to adopt AI tools—even flawed ones—is because they promise efficiency. And
efficiency, in a capitalist system, often means reducing labor costs, making quicker decisions,
and maximizing profit. So when these tools harm certain groups, the question becomes: is
anyone going to stop using them if they still serve the bottom line?
Marx would probably say no. He’d say these tools are working exactly as intended—
streamlining the process of choosing which bodies are most “useful” to the system, and quietly
discarding the rest. That’s why ethical mitigation has to go beyond fixing bugs. It has to
challenge the economic logic behind how these tools are used. We can’t just patch over injustice
—we have to rethink what we’re optimizing for.

And while we’re talking about deeper frameworks, I want to bring Stuart Hall back into the
conversation too. Hall talked about how meaning is created through representation—how we see
ourselves and others in the systems around us. AI systems don’t just process data; they
participate in this meaning-making. They tell a story about who is “qualified,” who is
“professional,” who is “leadership material.” And when that story is built on historical data from
male-dominated industries, it doesn’t leave much room for anyone else.

So part of mitigating bias means challenging those stories. It means rewriting what success looks
like. That might mean changing how resumes are evaluated—valuing nontraditional paths,
collaborative leadership styles, or community impact. It might mean questioning why gaps in
employment are penalized at all, when they often reflect real-life responsibilities like caregiving.
Hall’s theory reminds us that bias isn’t just statistical. It’s cultural. And if we want different
outcomes, we need different narratives.

Now, I know all of this sounds big—and it is. But there are real, concrete steps companies can
take. First, start with inclusive data. That means making sure your training sets represent the
diversity of the people you want your system to serve—not just in gender, but in race, age,
ability, and background. Second, commit to bias audits—not just once, but regularly. And not
just internally, but with external oversight. Transparency matters. Third, ensure that your
development teams are diverse, not as a checkbox, but as a necessity. People with different
lived experiences will catch things others won’t. And finally, create feedback mechanisms—
ways for applicants to report issues, appeal decisions, or at least understand how a system
evaluated them.

Bias isn’t always avoidable. But when it shows up, we should be able to see it, name it, and fix
it. That’s what fairness looks like in practice.

And I want to end on this: mitigation is not a one-time fix. It’s a mindset. A practice. A
commitment to doing better—not just because it’s good PR, but because people’s lives are being
shaped by these systems. Every time someone is denied a job because an algorithm didn’t “like”
a certain word or background, that’s a lost opportunity. That’s someone’s rent, someone’s career,
someone’s self-worth on the line. If we’re going to keep using AI in hiring, we owe it to
everyone to make sure those decisions are rooted in care, in ethics, and in justice—not just in
speed and savings.

And that brings me to you, [Member 5]. You’ve been looking at transparency—how companies
explain these systems, how they communicate decisions, and how much the public actually
knows about how these algorithms work. Can transparency really be enough to keep AI ethical?
Or do we need something more?
Podcast Outro

And that brings us to the end of today’s conversation. From coded bias to ethical responsibility,
from care to accountability, we’ve unpacked how AI in hiring reflects the world we’ve built—
and what it will take to build something better.

To everyone who tuned in—thank you for listening, for questioning, and for thinking deeply
with us.

We hope this episode didn’t just inform you, but challenged you to reflect on the systems we
trust and the values we carry into the future.