This week, we read that you are very likely to become a candidate for rector of Tallinn University. In a comment you gave to ERR, you said that Tallinn University is marked by a certain modesty, as it is Estonia's third university — and that thought stuck with me. What exactly do you mean by being "the third"? In terms of student numbers, it's probably factually true that Tallinn University is the third largest.

We do have that kind of reputation — that we're somehow a bit less important because we primarily focus on the so-called "soft" disciplines like social sciences, education and the humanities, as well as the arts through BFM. In the mainstream discourse, these fields aren't considered the most essential to society, especially when we're talking about economic development.

My own story with Tallinn University is that I earned my doctorate at the London School of Economics, which is one of the world's leading universities for social sciences. When I was invited to come to Tallinn University and I accepted, it always seemed to me that Tallinn University already is, in a sense, or at least has the potential to become even more like Estonia's own version of LSE. Sure, in the background there are Oxford and Cambridge — or in Estonia's case, the University of Tartu — classic, comprehensive universities. But you can also have a cool, modern, flexible and responsive university in the capital. That's already the case to some extent, but we ourselves have often hesitated to see it that way or to take pride in what we've accomplished in terms of development in recent years.

We can say that in many of the fields we're active in, we're operating at a strong international level and we could be more confident in saying so, proud of that and take a bold, ambitious place in Estonian society.

To return briefly to that idea — do you think there might come a time when we can talk about Tallinn University as Estonia's second university?

Let's be honest, that kind of ranking is a somewhat misleading metaphor. But in the fields we operate in, we have nothing to be ashamed of anymore — we've undergone a truly exciting path of development. We're strong in several areas and it's time we state that more clearly in Estonian society. We should claim our seat at the table because we know we're good.

I've personally heard a rather condescending or even dismissive attitude toward Tallinn University in some circles. Some people still don't seem to consider it a "real" university. You mentioned that one reason might be the focus on softer disciplines, but TLÜ is also a relatively young university. What do you think is mainly behind this?

That's exactly it — it's the historical background. We don't have a long, established legacy. It's true that we weren't particularly strong, say, more than 20 years ago. But the reality is that things have changed. Tallinn University has been remarkably successful in securing international grants and the quality of research in our fields has grown significantly.

Take my own institute, BFM, for example. Just over a decade ago, we weren't much to speak of in terms of research. Sure, it was great that we taught film — it's unique in Estonia — but now we have a number of recognized researchers at BFM who are actively engaged at the highest level in international organizations, whose work is cited widely and who are invited to lecture all over the world.

That international recognition is already there, but I think the old myths still persist in Estonian society. When I was a first-year journalism student at the University of Tartu, I remember very clearly how Marju Lauristin taught us that it's extremely hard to break existing myths — but it's only possible when new ones begin to emerge alongside them. And to me, it seems that now is the time for Tallinn University to start creating those new myths. If we're already being recognized internationally, then it's time we start being recognized nationally as well.

I recently did an interview with acting BFM director Riho Västrik who acknowledged that from a purely film-sector perspective, BFM doesn't quite have the leverage to influence policy. But what's your take on Tallinn University as a whole? Is TLÜ's voice heard enough in the public discourse?

I'll start with the film field, because I don't think the situation is quite so dire. Our people are involved in various sectoral committees, they advise ministries, the Estonian Film Institute and other institutions in the field. We are being listened to. But at the same time, it's clear that we need to state more assertively that we are the place where knowledge in this field is concentrated. Our doctoral program is already up and running to the extent that we're producing top-level specialists in various subfields of film and media and those individuals should certainly be involved even more.

As for Tallinn University more broadly, on the one hand, in so-called real life — at the level of ministries, experts and deputy secretaries general — our researchers are consistently involved. But again, it seems that when it comes to the other two larger universities, this happens even more and those universities also take the initiative more often. They independently go to ministries and other key institutions to discuss issues and present their proposals.

We've been more reserved — we wait to be invited to the table. But once again, we need to reach a point in our institutional self-awareness where we go to the table ourselves and say: "This is how things are, this is our expertise and here are the solutions we propose."

You currently work at BFM as a professor of media innovation. A few years ago, BFM underwent a major structural change, with several new programs added. How do you see the state of the institute today? From the broader university perspective, BFM really stands out — in fact, I'd say it stands out so much that many people think of it as a separate school.

That's true. In terms of public reputation, I feel good about the fact that BFM has always had, quite simply, a somewhat stronger reputation than the rest of the university. That likely has to do with the field itself — it's such a unique area — and from the start, BFM was developed as a highly international institution striving for excellence in the arts. On top of that, we were always a bit separate; initially, we were even a stand-alone college located far from the main campus. So yes, many young people genuinely don't realize that BFM is part of Tallinn University.

From the perspective of Tallinn University, that's a problem. From BFM's perspective, it might also be a problem, because if we want to show that we are truly research-based and part of a real university, that isn't always how BFM is perceived. People tend to imagine it as just a big center for making art. Estonian film has become vibrant and exciting and BFM has played a role in that. But when it comes to producing audiovisual culture, it's also time we start thinking more critically about how evidence- and research-based our work is — what we teach and how we teach it.

Can we train professionals in a way that also develops their analytical skills, so they always understand the meaning and context of what they do? That's a step we need to take as well. And that's why our connection to the university is extremely important and making that visible is crucial.

You made a great point about how BFM brings together two poles: on one hand, a strong academic side and, on the other, the creation of actual art. How well are these two sides currently integrated? Or to paraphrase Riho Västrik again, is there still work to be done in the merging process?

There definitely is. On one hand, a lot of work has already been done. We now have a whole group of filmmakers in Estonia who have either completed or are in the process of completing their doctoral studies — Elen Lotman, Mart Sander, Michael Keerdo-Dawson and soon Carlos Lesmes and Liis Nimik. They're all well-known figures in Estonian film. And they've already developed a stronger understanding of how to approach their work in a more research- and evidence-based way. That's given them entirely new tools to use in their creative practice.

When it comes to our teaching, though, we have to admit that some key components are still missing at BFM. For example, we don't currently have a master's program in film. Years ago, there was an attempt to launch one, but it was shut down after it became clear that those who had been teaching at the bachelor's level didn't have much new to offer at the master's level.

Looking at how things have developed in several European film universities — and I say "film universities" because these are universities where the film school is part of a larger academic institution — the master's programs there have clearly integrated what we call "creative research" or "practice-based research." At BFM, this has been a major focus in recent years at the doctoral level. Now that we have a growing number of creative researchers with doctoral degrees, we're in a good position to put their expertise to use in developing a new kind of master's program.

So, if you're asking about integration, I'd say that in the coming years, there's a real opportunity to build a new kind of master's curriculum — one where evidence-based thinking is fully integrated and we teach both practitioners and researchers to better understand their own processes and to plan their work more effectively or in new ways. The same needs to be done at the bachelor's level as well. That work hasn't been done yet, but I truly hope it lies ahead in the near future.

Coming up with these questions, I was reminded of your opinion piece from a couple of years ago, where — in the context of proposed changes to the ERR law — you pointed out something different entirely: that we should actually be focusing on how to reclaim the young audience from the big platforms. So, are we now winning that battle or have we hopelessly lost it?

I think we haven't done anything about it at all. Of course, ERR deserves credit — Jupiter has been developed to make it easier and more convenient to access Estonian-language audiovisual content in an Estonian context. I hear from my students that ERR has some kind of presence on TikTok as well, though I haven't had the chance to check it out myself.

At the same time, it seems clear to me that we need a much more systematic approach to thinking about what influencer or content creator culture might mean for Estonian culture and whether it should somehow be guided or supported through cultural policy, or what we should do with it. It's obvious that this is a rapidly growing and significant global phenomenon that captures the attention of virtually all young people.

I'm not going to claim I have the answers, but it seems to me that we at least need to start mapping out this world. How many Estonian-language creators are there? Are they being highlighted or supported? How much valuable cultural content is coming from that space — content worth paying attention to and elevating? I suspect there is quite a bit. I believe there is.

The question then becomes: can ERR, the Cultural Endowment of Estonia or someone else help bring that to the forefront and integrate it into broader cultural discussions? Right now, the world of meaning young people live in — it's not reaching anywhere else. It's not appearing in cultural publications or on ERR's platforms. It's time we make a deliberate, systemic effort to bring those spheres of meaning and discussion together.

There's definitely also a generational gap at play here, since media organizations are led by people who don't belong to the TikTok generation.

Absolutely. That's a classic problem — and the classic answer is that new people need to be brought in, including at ERR. I understand the challenges — how difficult organizational change can be and how limited the resources are. But it seems to me that we're probably already late to the game, which just means the need to act is even more urgent now.

This ties in well with a news story from just a few days ago — that Australia has now banned social media platforms for under-16s. It's already received a lot of criticism. How do you view this decision?

I think it's a major mistake. I agree with all of my former professors from international universities who have been part of this debate and I also agree with Estonian colleagues Andra Siibak and Katrin Tiidenberg who have spoken out on the issue as well. At the same time, it's important to recognize that there's a deep disciplinary divide here, between psychologists and media and communication researchers.

I understand where the psychologists are coming from — there have indeed been cases where social media has had harmful effects on minors. But what digital culture researchers are saying is that we need to trust young people. We need to give them control over their own media environments. They need the opportunity to shape their own communication channels and social spaces. We can't operate from a constant position of distrust, assuming they're incapable of handling things.

All kinds of international studies have shown that young people are, in fact, very capable decision-makers when it comes to their communication environments. And where problems do arise, the research also shows that if you provide them with guidance and teach media literacy, it actually works. Young people are very aware of where the risks and problems lie and know how to manage them. I see this in my own children. At their school, these topics are being handled quite well — they're very aware of the various risks and challenges and they seek solutions right away when issues come up.

So I would really emphasize this point again: we need to trust young people and give them, from the outset, the responsibility and skills to shape their own communication spaces.

We've talked about the generational gap, which is partly holding back our development. But if we take a broader look at Estonia's media landscape, including TV series and films, how well are we keeping up with the rest of the world?

Estonian film and our audiovisual culture more broadly has undergone incredibly rapid and impressive development over the past couple of decades. I think there are many reasons why Estonian film is now so rich in both genre and form and why we're telling such a wide range of stories. One of the key factors is certainly the establishment of a national film school. Another major milestone was transforming the Estonian Film Foundation into the Estonian Film Institute, which now has a much broader mandate to develop the film sector as a whole.

On top of that, various support measures have helped bring more international co-productions and large foreign film projects to Estonia. These have been important because our filmmakers have had the chance to learn from them, both in terms of technical skills and understanding how international filmmaking works, not to mention the valuable contacts they've made.

PÖFF [Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival] has also played a crucial role. It's not just about raising film awareness and education among Estonian audiences — it also brings more international professionals here every year. That creates even more networking opportunities and our people are now present at major film festivals around the world. The development of this field has been very systematic and it's paying off.

So in terms of keeping up with the world, I'd say we've already taken some very important steps. Even in terms of production quality, we're where we need to be — there aren't any major shortcomings. Of course, we can't make massive blockbuster-budget films, but I don't think there's a real need for that either.

That said, one thing that comes out of Sten Kauber's recent doctoral dissertation is the idea that we could approach things a bit more systematically when it comes to which Estonian stories are being told. Does Estonian film reflect the lived reality of people in places like Põlva or Kärdla? Do they see their lives represented on screen?

I think Estonian film could become more socially conscious and inclusive, with a clearer goal of portraying the realities of life in Estonia across different genres.

You mentioned yourself that we're making films across various genres, but the question still remains: do these audiovisual works actually resonate with people and do Estonian viewers want to watch these kinds of films? There are still those who define Estonian cinema by the image of a dog carcass being dragged in "The Temptation of St. Tony," although I'd argue that Estonian film has become much more diverse by now.

There are already plenty of good examples. We've seen some really exciting films dealing with contemporary life. And for me, making art films is not an issue at all — it's incredibly important that we have creators who introduce alternative perspectives into Estonia's cultural space. But alongside that, I still want to ask: could we do more? Could we move even closer to society?

That doesn't mean we should just churn out popular comedies or keep adapting bestselling novels. Maybe it means we should start seeking out literary works that speak more directly to Estonian society — works that say something more meaningful and relevant.

"Fränk" is actually a good example of this — how they managed to bring a young audience into cinemas.

Yes, and what's especially important there is that the film didn't end with its release. The creators traveled all across Estonia, presenting and discussing their film. That act of explaining, framing, contextualizing and creating events around the work is very meaningful, also from my perspective as a cultural semiotician. Art often becomes greater when it's given an explanatory frame and a surrounding context.

I'll return once more to Sten Kauber's recently defended doctoral dissertation where he emphasizes that audience studies aren't just about finding out what audiences like, but about exploring what their lives are like and whether those lives can be reflected in any kind of art. Can we create films that capture the real richness of Estonia's cultural and social space? That effort still remains to be made.

At least to me, one of the obstacles in Estonia seems to be the general lack of film education. We still don't have a solid system in general education schools for introducing students to cinema as an art form. As you mentioned, PÖFF is doing a lot of important work in this area and doing it well, but overall, viewers' level of film literacy is still quite low. How do you see this?

I don't have any hard evidence on that, but it may very well be one of the next areas of research we need to take on. In fact, we've just recently been discussing this more with the Estonian Film Institute, especially now that we have highly educated film audience researchers as part of our team.

How do we study Estonian film viewers? How do they relate to film? What else do they want? What's their level of awareness and ability to engage with film as a medium? That's work that really needs to be done and I truly hope the first steps have already been taken and that we'll start seeing these kinds of studies conducted regularly in the future.

"Fränk" seemed to prove that if filmmakers find the right approach, it is possible to connect with a young domestic audience. But at the same time, when it comes to the big platforms, it often feels like you could make the best film in the world here in Estonia, get it into cinemas at prime times or even upload it online for free and then "Stranger Things" drops on Netflix and completely takes over the airwaves. For a small film culture, that seems like a pretty tough battle?

Actually, I wouldn't be quite so dramatic about it. We're just wrapping up an international research project where we compared how small European film cultures are doing. We looked at Estonia, Ireland, Denmark, Flanders, Portugal, Lithuania and Croatia — what we found is that something has been done quite well in Estonia: people actually watch domestic films.

It seems that marketing for Estonian films and media coverage of those films are working effectively. There are also specific formats in place that help turn local film screenings into events. So compared to other countries, Estonian audiences' engagement with domestic film isn't bad at all — in fact, far from it. In Ireland, for example, the situation is really dire: Irish people don't watch Irish films at all.

At the same time, we've been conducting very data-driven research, gathering international data on how many domestic films actually make it into cinemas. Interestingly, what we've found is that in Estonia, local films are shown relatively infrequently in theaters, despite the demand. When Estonian films are screened, the theaters tend to fill up. But the screening windows — the amount of time those films stay in cinemas — are quite short. Most likely, that's because theaters want to quickly switch to showing popular American films.

Our hypothesis, supported by the data, is that Estonian films could and should be shown in cinemas for longer periods. That way, they'd reach even more viewers.

As an extension of this, there's the broader question: right now, Estonian films are being shown in cinemas. Our entire film production and funding model is built around that assumption. Even at BFM, students are learning to make films with the idea that their audiovisual works will one day be seen in theatrical distribution or on the festival circuit. But in the context of a changing media landscape, could we soon reach a point where films in Estonia are produced directly for streaming platforms?

Once again, the large international research project we're just completing shows that in every country, the theatrical release window is still incredibly important. That's where production companies secure a significant portion of the revenue they need.

That said, in countries like Denmark, which, while small, is a globally recognized filmmaking nation, there is collaboration happening between production companies and major streaming platforms. In those cases, it's entirely possible for a film to go directly to a platform.

Unfortunately, Estonia hasn't yet been recognized by the big-money platforms as a film-producing country they'd want to partner with on that level. But if that were to change, I wouldn't see any problem with it. It would bring more income into the sector, along with new skills and valuable experience.

In the Estonian context, it's probably not yet realistic to expect films to be produced directly for platforms like Jupiter or Arkaader, right?

That's never going to happen. Something truly extraordinary would have to occur — like a government coming to power that suddenly wants to give ERR tens of millions more in funding. The chances of that are extremely slim.

What could happen, however, is a different kind of scenario where one of Estonia's major telecom companies, which have already started investing in TV series production, might decide to invest in shorter formats, like films. I wouldn't rule that out at all. It's a real possibility and there's a certain logic to it — it just hasn't happened yet.

That said, I don't see a problem with it. If the sector gets more resources — by all means, let it. And if a telecom company does invest in a film, then a bit of additional visibility through a cinema release window could actually be beneficial. So we'll see whether things start moving in that direction.

We've talked about cinema and streaming platforms, but one of the biggest media debates this fall has centered around linear television — specifically, late-night talk shows in the U.S. Several hosts have faced calls to be removed or "canceled" and former President Trump has actively fueled that process. But now there's been a bit of good news: Jimmy Kimmel, who had briefly gone off-air during the controversy, has had his contract extended through 2027. How is it that in the U.S., hosts of live linear TV shows still hold such significance?

There's a bit of history here behind how the late-night talk show format even came about. Originally, it was developed as a cheap way to close out the broadcasting day. Major TV networks were competing heavily with scripted content — dramas, sitcoms, films — and scripted content is expensive to produce. So the question arose: could the end of the day be filled with something more affordable?

Culturally, this format also fits the American mold quite well — one charismatic guy at a desk, being ironic, cracking jokes and offering commentary on the day's events from a different angle. The genre was also heavily supported by American celebrity culture — it actually became one of its cornerstones. These shows serve as nightly rituals that both legitimize and elevate celebrities. In the American entertainment economy, late-night talk shows are a vital pillar.

But if you're asking how it's possible that linear television is still so relevant today, I'd point out that these shows are no longer confined to linear TV. They have become more meaningful courtesy of how easily they can be broken down into short clips, posted to social media and circulated far beyond the original broadcast.

And that's exactly the challenge in today's polarized media environment — sharp, direct satire spreads more easily and can have more impact. Not just in American society, but globally. Even here in Europe and Estonia, we all know these major American talk show hosts.

Hence the sensitivity in American society today; why that format is at the heart of confrontations.

Do we have anything or anyone in Estonia that compares in this context? We don't really have a celebrity culture in the same way, but could the cancellation of a show or the firing of a host spark a similar public reaction?

We just had a situation like that where a morning show segment didn't lead to a host being fired or a show being canceled, but instead triggered calls to privatize all of ERR (laughs).

I don't think we have a true late-night satire format here, but shows like "Ringvaade" and "Hommik Anuga" do carry a bit of that same function. They feature key figures from the entertainment world who come on to talk about their projects. The hosts are lively — if not necessarily top comedians — but they bring a certain warmth and lightness.

We've already touched on streaming platforms, but I have to ask as a quick side note — how many VOD subscriptions should a professor of media innovation at BFM have?

Over the years, I've had quite a few. Right now, I only have two active subscriptions: Apple TV and Netflix, plus I have access to HBO and Go3.

Interestingly, I haven't had much time for Netflix lately — there's just so much exciting content on Apple TV. So when I do have time to watch something, I've mostly been sticking with Apple in recent months.

How much has the VOD landscape changed over the past couple of years? It seems like there haven't been many new major players entering the market — everyone's mostly just solidified their positions. Even in Estonia, platforms like Jupiter and Arkaader have found their place and audiences, while international platforms have expanded into new markets — HBO Max, for example, just launched here.

I think the biggest shifts haven't come from new institutional players entering the field, but rather from the big streaming giants realizing that in order to keep growing, they need to start collaborating more with local service providers. Now we're seeing that you can access platforms like Netflix and HBO Max through Telia or through Go3, so there's a growing level of integration.

Whereas before, each platform tried to make their content offering absolutely exclusive, we're now seeing deals where content providers say, "Your content doesn't have to live only on our platform — it can also be available elsewhere." From the consumer's perspective, that's a major improvement. A few years ago, we reached a point where people simply couldn't afford or manage to subscribe to everything and the result was that consumers around the world began turning back to piracy.

It seems to me that one of the reasons exclusivity has faded and platforms are partnering with local providers is the realization that exclusivity is a risk. Viewers walk away because they want access to everything and when they can't get it, they turn to piracy. And piracy benefits no one.

Could we say that by now, people may actually be feeling a kind of fatigue from consuming content through VOD platforms and are instead starting to want to go back to cinemas more?

I haven't checked the latest numbers, but cinema attendance should be slowly trending upward again, although we're still not back to pre-COVID levels. Personally, I've never really feared that the cinema format would disappear; I don't think that's likely. People go to the cinema not just for the films, but because it's a social event. I don't believe that the social need for the cinema experience will vanish from human culture.

If we bring in one more current development, like the fact that Netflix or Paramount are looking to acquire Warner Bros., then the concern becomes this: what if they stop allowing Warner's new films to be released in theaters? That would pose a real problem, especially for cinemas. Cinemas remain attractive largely because they can offer big, exciting, new blockbuster content. If access to that kind of content is reduced, it inevitably poses a risk to the cinema business model.

That's exactly where I wanted to go next — the Netflix–Warner story. When I read the news about that potential merger, one comment really stood out: it said that if this goes through, we'll essentially be moving from the VOD era back to cable television. It was meant as a joke, but it felt surprisingly accurate. The VOD landscape has always been defined by competition and a wide range of options. But if Netflix were to acquire its biggest competitor, HBO, it would seriously shift the balance of power. How do you see it?

I'd actually approach this from an Estonian and, more broadly, European perspective. Because when we think about our cultural context, we should ask: is our biggest concern really how movies are made in the U.S. and which of them make it to us? Sure, from an individual consumer standpoint, we all want great entertainment and exciting new films, and if less is produced, well, that's unfortunate.

But the real issue in Europe has long been that the U.S. is too efficient at exporting its culture. So from our perspective, the main concern isn't the level of competition in the American market — it's why European films, even really great ones, don't circulate more effectively within Europe or why they don't reach countries like Estonia.

If we're Europeans, shouldn't we be learning more about each other's cultures? Instead, we often know every detail, system and inside joke of American pop culture, while barely knowing anything about German, French, Lithuanian or Polish culture.

That lack of awareness is more than just a cultural gap — it's also a security issue. If Europe doesn't understand itself, why would we expect people across the continent to stand up for one another in the face of different risks?

At the same time, one aspect definitely affecting Estonian audiovisual culture is that since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic and the resulting VOD explosion, theatrical release windows have been steadily shrinking. If a major merger were to happen in the U.S. market, those windows would likely shorten even further, which could also impact the European and Estonian cinema market.

I think that's a likely trend. At the same time, as a researcher of audiovisual culture, I'd add another point or issue — that in fact, too many films are being produced overall.

I completely agree with that.

Europe is constantly worried about the state of its film and creative industries, pouring vast resources and large amounts of money into them, yet the films are watched very little, whether in cinemas, on television or on VOD platforms. In a sense, there's a lot of inefficient use of public funds.

I'm not saying that Estonia has the same problem — it's hard to say whether we're producing exactly the right number of films that interested audiences are actually able to watch. But we're probably quite close to that threshold. More broadly in Europe, however, too large a portion of publicly funded films never reach their audience. So maybe, if we want to compete with America, we need to increase budgets and reduce the number of films being made. If there were fewer films, the release windows could be longer, giving each film more time to reach its audience.

So far in this interview we've mainly talked about people and content created by people, but we should stop for a moment to talk about artificial intelligence. Are you afraid of AI?

No.

But why aren't you afraid?

Naturally, the rise of artificial intelligence brings with it various risks to culture and society. There could be reasons to be afraid, but risks are something we need to deal with. So let's break those risks down.

The biggest risk is the one Jaan Tallinn talks about: that AI might achieve self-awareness and at some point disconnect itself from human oversight, after which we'd be in the realm of dystopian sci-fi. I'm not saying that risk doesn't exist, but I hope it's being addressed.

The second risk, which concerns the film and creative sectors, is the fear of having your job taken away. I don't really see that as a major threat, for several reasons. First of all, this is already being addressed on a regulatory level — agreements are being made so that actors, for example, can continue acting. But from my background as a cultural semiotician, I also see that culture isn't just about representations and stories — it's also about communication. As humans, we want to consume stories and messages that have been made by other people. We want to feel that someone created this and is trying to tell us something. We have very few examples in culture of us consuming something that simply "exists," where there's no sense of a sender or intention behind it. So when I think about how culture functions, I just don't see that kind of content becoming truly desirable.

Another major risk is that people might simply become lazy — we start using these tools to do the bulk of the work for us, including articulating and making sense of things. Eventually, we end up swimming in a sea of automatically generated messages that no one has actually created, simply because we can't be bothered anymore. And over time, we lose the skills to express things with nuance and depth, because we're constantly outsourcing it to machines.

I think that last risk is very real. But again — thanks to my kids, who are in school — I can see that this issue is already being addressed. Kids are being taught not just to lazily rely on these tools, but to use them as support in their learning process. I get the sense that if we give people some clear rules and tools for how to use these machines effectively to support themselves, then that awareness and those skills will develop.

It seems to me that these skills are absolutely essential right now. I use AI tools in my own work too and I feel just how difficult it is to prevent the machine from making mistakes or generating nonsense. Over time, the error rate will likely go down, but I don't think it will ever disappear completely, coming from a cultural theory perspective, because AI will never be able to fully grasp the context or background we want to express ourselves in. So it will always remain just a tool in human hands.

We simply need, as humanity, to learn how to use these tools effectively. And here, as a media scholar, I'd bring in the concept of moral or media panics — a recurring phenomenon throughout history whenever new media emerge. It seems to me that right now, we're feeling far more fear than is ultimately warranted.

I agree with you — I don't feel afraid either. But what I do increasingly feel, day by day, is a kind of irrational suspicion when scrolling through social media. Especially the suspicion of whether what I'm seeing online was created by a human or not. Do you understand what I mean?

Absolutely. When I just listed the various risks, another one that needs to be highlighted is the broader cultural confusion surrounding the authenticity of texts. I myself have realized in recent weeks that a very large share of those nice videos that are fed to me on Facebook or Instagram may not actually be real — especially considering that we know Meta has allowed artificially generated content onto its platforms. I've recently found myself asking a new question: hmm, is this true or not? And that's likely a significant risk — namely the spread of misinformation and disinformation.

In Europe, a problem is currently emerging in that we want, for understandable reasons, to curb this type of information, but we all use major platforms that originate in the United States. And as a result of major political polarization there, the value judgments around societal risks are not the same as they are in Europe.

So Europe is facing a major question: how to assert itself on large digital platforms in a way that ensures information is truthful and reliable. In fact, the technical solutions to curb these issues already exist — the question is how to compel major technology and media companies to implement them. That is one of the major challenges facing Europe today.

On the flip side, I've recently seen several industry professionals say that the whole AI hype will soon blow over — it's just a temporary craze and before long no one will be talking about it anymore. What do you think, could that happen?

No.

As someone who's also, in a way, a historian of media innovations, I'd say there's actually a risk right now of a major market crash — something similar to what happened around the year 2000. At that time, there was massive investment in new internet companies, but then it became clear that productivity in the sector wasn't as high as expected, the investments weren't paying off and there was a huge loss of value and a pullback.

But five or six years later, those same companies — like Amazon and Google — were bigger than ever.

There's a strong chance we'll see the same pattern now. The investments being made in AI are enormous, but if you read industry reports from various sectors trying to adopt AI tools, you'll see that while there's been some increase in productivity, it hasn't been particularly dramatic. Those major, transformative breakthroughs, where things are done completely differently and new models emerge, haven't happened yet. That kind of development will likely take another five years or more.

So the big transformation, where AI genuinely reshapes the economy and everyday life, is still ahead of us. But no, it's not going to go away. That's no longer possible.

You've written about this topic recently, but how well do these artificial intelligence solutions or, more precisely, language models actually understand us, meaning Estonians and Estonia more broadly?

It's widely known that these tools are still not good enough in Estonian. For example, ChatGPT 4 was already quite good, then came ChatGPT 5, whose Estonian was extremely poor, but just a few days ago, I noticed that the new version's Estonian is actually quite decent.

The Institute of the Estonian Language has determined through its own tests that Google's Gemini 2.5 is currently the best in Estonian. So anyone who wants to work in their native language should use that model. But I believe the language issues are only a matter of time — soon enough, they'll be good in Estonian too.

On one hand, we can say that there's a limit to innovation — a language model can't become richer or more advanced than the language itself. But as a cultural theorist, I have a hypothesis that at some point, these models will actually start to develop our language, because they "want" to say more. Since everyone is using these models simultaneously, it may be that in a few years, these models will start to drive the evolution of language — just like internet expressions do today.

Our broader problem is that even if, in terms of language development, everything will soon be fine, do these models actually understand Estonian cultural meaning systems well enough? Not just from a linguistic perspective, but more broadly — for example, in terms of our entire audiovisual culture. And at the same time, do we really want all of these services to be provided by American tech giants?

If we express concern that in the future our fridge — speaking to us in Estonian — might not fully understand us, then that means we need to hand over our big data to American giants. In doing so, we're essentially saying that we want these companies to be involved in every phase of our lives: running our fridges, our cars and basically half our existence, while we have no idea how these AI models actually work or make decisions.

In Europe, it's our responsibility to take control of this whole process: how our data is used to build AI tools, how they make decisions and how best to implement them in different services. It's a very welcome development that Switzerland, Finland and even our own government are moving toward ensuring that data does not leave Europe and that efforts are being made to train our own language models. That way, we ourselves control how these models are trained and their functioning is understandable, transparent and explainable.

If the claim is that AI will become central and influence every aspect of our lives in the next innovation cycle, then it is absolutely crucial that we, as societies, maintain control over these machines. We cannot hand over that responsibility to overseas corporations. We must do it ourselves. And yes, that probably means investing public money — but I believe that in the context of Europe's sovereignty over the coming decades, it is critically important.

You've been speaking here about long-term visions and what might happen five or ten years from now, but as we near the end of 2025, it's also a good moment to look ahead to next year. What trends do you think might deepen or emerge in 2026?

The development trajectory over the next couple of years in terms of artificial intelligence will likely continue as it has — the models will keep improving in quality and that's something we've already seen in recent years. Language skills are getting better, AI developers are gaining access to higher-quality material. I've written a couple of books myself and I recently signed a few agreements at a publisher's request to allow those books to be made available to AI model developers — and I'll probably receive a small fee later on, if that happens.

The ability of these models to provide good answers to all sorts of real-world questions is steadily improving and the same goes for audiovisual tools — they're becoming more powerful. At BFM, we're already dealing daily with the question of how to introduce AI into film and audiovisual culture studies, so that students can begin experimenting with these new tools. Because in a few years, when they enter the workforce, they'll be using these tools as part of their creative toolkit. Right now, the tools are still fairly inefficient — you feed in some text and get something vaguely similar back — but what we need is for creators of audiovisual content to have complete, 100 percent control over their creative process. That's an area where innovation and experimentation are very much underway.

For the next couple of years, the trajectory is clear: the models will just keep getting better. The more interesting question is what kind of new formats will start to emerge in film, television and audiovisual culture. Earlier we talked about whether people would want to consume only automated culture and we'll probably see those kinds of experiments already in 2026. Something like: Indrek Ibrus is interested in this kind of content — can we produce a personalized TV series just for him?

In reality, that would require an enormous investment and immense computing power, so it's unlikely we'll go down that road immediately, but experiments in that direction are coming. We'll begin to see more personalized and possibly more interactive content.

Of course, all this personalization also comes with new risks — namely that we lose a shared cultural experience and have nothing to talk about with one another. If you come to interview me five years from now, I won't know what you're watching and you won't know what I'm watching, so the interview will end quickly (laughs).

For now, there are probably still a few overlapping points in our cultural space. Since December is the season for year-end wrap-ups, maybe to close this conversation about audiovisual culture, you could share a few of your favorite films or series from this past year?

This isn't a particularly conscious choice, but I've noticed that in my spare moments I tend to gravitate toward sci-fi-themed series. And it seems to me that in recent years we've seen some remarkable, large-scale and unique sci-fi series — especially those that have premiered on Apple TV+. I'd highlight the adaptation of Isaac Asimov's "Foundation," but also "Severance" and "Silo." I've really enjoyed those, among others.

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