Category Archives: Religion

Artificial Intelligence, Christianity, Religion, Society

Does AI really have the answers to the truth?

OPINION

Intro: ChatGPT may relieve its users of discomfort, but in doing so robs us of contemplation, of the holy ground between question and answer

Any Individual person of faith raised in a religious setting such as the home will have a fairly clear picture of what prayer means. Prayer is the practice by which we draw closer to God, petition for our needs and desires, request guidance, and seek forgiveness.

For many, the deal has always been that in times of trouble we cast our anxieties and questions and emerge with either some answers or some sustaining sense of peace. Take it to the Lord in prayer, the well-known Christian hymn goes.

It may be unclear when a question becomes a prayer, although that may have less to do with the content of the question and more to do with our expectations in asking it.

I would hope that no one has ever thought of ChatGPT as a god – and clearly, some users don’t even think it’s good according to critical reviews – nor would I hope that anyone has ever asked its forgiveness. Nonetheless, in moments of confusion, I would suspect people have called upon its name for answers almost compulsively.

In a typical example, this might have been limited to things like searching for recipes and experimenting with its abilities in areas such as poetry. Then – with playful irony – we might began asking for its read on our relational dynamics, our habits, or even what the future might hold for us.

While we should remain rationally aware of its hallucinations (because that’s what they are in AI parlance) and lack of moral obligation, there is a powerful belief that it will have something real to offer in these moments. Whatever our claim to believe about it, we will no doubt find ourselves soothed by the tidiness of a five-bullet-point plan and the imitation of a reassuring voice. It offers guidance that at least sounds certain, even if this certainty is synthetic.

Why would a Christian – in theory, on speaking terms with God – turn to a robot with her questions? Because at least this god answers, you might think. But saints and mystics would smile at that response.

The Christians of history most celebrated for their wisdom and understanding have often been those most familiar with God’s silence, not His chatter. His silence became another form of communion, His perceived absence another kind of presence.

Simone Weil, a 20th-century mystic and philosopher, famously defined prayer as attention. In a letter to her priest and mentor, included in a collection titled Waiting for God, Weil speaks of prayer as the “orientation of all the attention of which the soul is capable towards God”.

Her original French language makes plain a secret. The French word for attention, spelt the same way as the English, is closely linked to the word for waiting, attendre. The collection’s title, Attente de Dieu, or Waiting for God, bears the same secret: decent prayer is mostly just waiting.

No wonder, then, there is a temptation to turn to ChatGPT. The unbearable wait is exactly the burden that its instantaneous answers promise to lift. So anxious have people become of this burden that even a false certainty becomes preferable to the discomfort of not understanding.

Another piece of etymology is illuminating here. The lives of mystics like Weil were marked by a practice of contemplation, as is the prayer life of many Christians.

To contemplate is, of course, not to conclude, but rather to deeply consider, reflect, observe. But at the Latin root of the word “contemplation” is literally the word “temple”. It is as if the gap between our question and its answer is a place made sacred by exactly the unknowing that produces our discomfort.

When ChatGPT unhesitatingly grants answers to questions of faith, this is the space it is invading. Not only does it satisfy us with a false sense of security, but the satisfaction it offers is its own kind of deprivation. The machine relieves us of our discomfort, but in doing so, deprives us of our waiting. Its bullet points assault our silence. It robs us of contemplation, of the holy ground between question and answer.

For the mystic, this space of contemplation had much more to do with seeking than finding. Lingering in this gap yielded its own treasures: a character marked by patience and wisdom; a deeper capacity for compassion; a familiarity with the mysteries that, for all our searching, resist simple answers; a contentment insulated from the storms of circumstance.

Whether or not we call it holy or sacred, the gap between our questions and answers is charged with this potential. To allow – even, to plead with – a bot to hustle us from it prematurely is to forego its treasures.

Coded for certainty rather than mystery, ChatGPT is ill-equipped to aid our search for truth. Perhaps instead we should do as the hymn says, and take it to the Lord in prayer.

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Artificial Intelligence, Arts, Religion, Society, Technology

Pope Leo’s encyclical on AI should be welcomed

MAGNIFICA HUMANITAS

Intro: Magnifica Humanitas is an important warning of the uses and misuses of a rapidly developing technology. Silicon Valley is wrong to dismiss it

When authors and creative writers are asked whether novels of the future will be written by AI, it’s not so much a question as a provocation. Do many worry that a machine can do what they do, only better? As Francine Prose, a prominent American writer and academic says: “No algorithm is going to write Anna Karenina!” which is also not a real answer.

Many will be grateful to Pope Leo XIV, the American pontiff, for his recently issued letter to the world, Magnifica Humanitas: On Safeguarding the Human Person in the Time of Artificial Intelligence. It’s a long (more than 40,000 words), intelligent, and thoughtful encyclical in which the pope addresses the uses and misuses of a rapidly developing technology. For anyone seeking an opinion on AI, they might like to be referred to the pope’s letter, or at least chapter three.

The encyclical begins with an appropriately biblical reference to the tragic consequences of a breakdown in human communication. Humanity faces a “pivotal choice: either to construct a new Tower of Babel or to build a city in which God and humanity dwell together”. What follows is a detailed account of the evolution of the views of Pope Leo’s predecessors, of the Church’s ideas about labour, authority, government, science, power, and our moral obligation to one another. It cites the work that the Church has done in defence of human dignity and freedom.

The third chapter concerns Technology and Dominance. The Grandeur of Humanity in Light of the Promises of AI, delivers on the promise of the encyclical’s title. In an eloquent (and most often quoted) passage explaining what AI is not, the pope essentially defines what it means to be human. “So-called artificial intelligences do not undergo experiences, do not possess a body, do not feel joy or pain, do not mature through relationships and do not know from within what love, work, friendship or responsibility mean.” AI does not have a moral conscience nor does it show any guiding concern for the greater human good.

The letter proceeds to say the most important and necessary things about what is possibly the greatest threat posed by AI: it can be programmed solely to maximise profit, a situation that can only result in the suffering of the many for the benefit of the few. The pope warns against the “manipulation of privacy” and the “misuse of information”, against the uses of an algorithm to manage employment, to control access to public services and credit, and to elevate or damage one’s personal reputation.

Compassion, mercy, and forgiveness – not high on the machine’s list of priorities – will become obsolete. “‘Necessary sacrifices’ may begin to be justified, placing the burden on the most vulnerable in pursuit of the supposed optimisation of the species.” If the tools of this new power are placed in the hands of those who already possess wealth and influence, they will be used to elevate the comfort, health, and wellbeing of our wealthiest and most privileged citizens.

As the letter nears its end, the pope calls on us to remain faithful to the truth, to invest in education, to cultivate relationships, to live in justice and peace – to resist the way in which the new technologies can “exploit the most vulnerable, create new forms of slavery and derive profit from conflict”. What becomes clear is that the pope is not condemning AI outright but rather the way it can be used as a tool of political repression and as a guarantee of worsening economic inequality.

In theory, it’s possible to criticise the encyclical for not going far enough, for not using another biblical metaphor – the golden calf – to stigmatise the use of AI because of how it prioritises cost-saving over spiritual, individual, and communal growth. But that ship has already sailed, and there’s not much that Leo XIV – or any religious leader – can do to condemn the new advances as a 21st-century form of idolatry.

Even so, the encyclical’s vision of human nature, of the spirit of justice and empathy that needs to prevail, of the essential importance of the highest moral values – is ultimately so beneficent, so positive, so generous, so inarguably clear about our obligation to protect the weak and the poor, that it’s hard to find reasons to dismiss it.

And yet that’s the scary part. Apparently there’s been a certain amount of blowback from Silicon Valley, where the inventors and masters of the latest technology have suggested that the pope doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Jeremy Nixon, a founder of AGI House, a group dedicated to proving that AI is essentially equal to the human brain, was quoted in the New York Times as saying that the Church hadn’t “thought deeply about . . . AI”, adding: “They couldn’t have a position on it, because they don’t understand it.” And there seems to be a widespread belief that the end product of the current research will be, in effect a new God, or at least a convincing simulacrum. Concerned about the perils of the future, our society is choosing to overlook the evidence that the downsides of AI are already upon us. Many undergraduates in marketing and advertising are acutely aware that by the time they graduate, all the jobs in advertising will have been taken by AI.

If the masters of this new technology fail to agree with what the pope sees as its dangers and drawbacks, we are in very deep trouble indeed. The problem is not that we will have a robot writing Anna Karenina. The problem is that no one will see any possible need for a novel that so exquisitely portrays the sufferings of a woman, a singular human being.

There would be no point in a book like that unless that account of a life-changing mistake could be monetised by a forward-thinking tech bro and used to finance the purchase of a bigger and better yacht, presumably serviced by a permanent underclass, by workers whose dignity – whose formerly valued and valuable jobs – have been pirated by the rapacious manifestations of artificial intelligence.

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Arts, Books, Christianity, Natural History, Philosophy, Religion

The beehive tells us much about the soul

THE COMPLETE BEEKEEPER

Intro: The beekeeper at Douai Abbey has applied the wisdom of bee care to living well

During the vigil on the eve of Easter Sunday, the dark church is lit only by the Paschal candle (representing Christ, “Light from Light”, as the Creed says) and by the candles lit from it and held by those present. Then an ancient chant is sung by the deacon towards the candle, and in praise of it.

This chant, the Exsultet (“Rejoice”), written between 1400 and 1600 years ago, is of an astonishing poetical character. Its text refers to Adam’s sin as felix culpa, “happy fault that earned for us so great, so glorious a Redeemer”.

It speaks of “this candle, a solemn offering, the work of bees and of your servants’ hands”. But there should be another mention of bees – of the candle flame being “fed by melting wax, drawn out by mother bees to build a torch so precious”. The natural history may be awry in calling the female workers “mother bees”, but it is good to see them given due praise. Alas, some choose an abbreviated form of the Exsultent and the mother bees perished. To make up for that shortfall, a delightful new book is being published by Gracewing: The Complete Beekeeper by Dom Gabriel Wilson, OSB (Order of Saint Benedict).  

He has been Prior of the Benedictine Abbey of Douai in Berkshire since 2022, but its beekeeper since 2015. His tenure was a turning point in beekeeping history. He was in charge during the devastating Isle of Wight disease (now known to be caused by the Acarine mite) in the early 20th century, which wiped out the native British Black Bee. His writings capture a pivotal moment when beekeeping shifted from old-world methods to more scientific, selective breeding.

The book’s title mirrors The Compleat Angler, first published by Isaac Walton in 1653, which made the angler symbolise the ideal human being living a balanced life. Similarly, Dom Gabriel feels that “within the hive lives and moves an allegory for the sacred mysteries not only of nature, but of the human soul”.

The beehive speaks to the human heart, he suggests, not by logical syllogisms but by symbol. As Pascal wrote: “The heart has its reasons which reason does not know.”

Dom Gabriel notes that the social virtues of bees were recognised in the pre-Christian world. Virgil devoted a quarter of his poem the Georgics to bees as a model of a structured, co-operative, and selfless society. Today we still wonder: “Who taught the bee to make its wax hexagons, those most perfect forms? Who instructed her to gather nectar and guard her queen, to sacrifice herself to relentless work without any thought of reward?”

Nonetheless, The Complete Beekeeper is more than natural history or self-help; it is a contemplation of spirituality. “To keep bees is … a form of devotion, akin to an intimate spiritual practice that mirrors the tending of one’s inner life.”

The author’s experience at the beehive informs this meta-science: which, governs the care of the faculty for living well – the soul. “Each hive is its own living universe. Within its wooden walls, thousands of bees work in miraculous harmony: foraging, building, cleaning, dancing, feeding the queen, and protecting the whole. So too is the soul made up of countless thoughts, memories, desires, and instincts.”

The Complete Beekeeper taps inherited wisdom. It quotes poets such as Coleridge and Hopkins, and masters of the spiritual life such as St John of the Cross, and, naturally, St Benedict. It critically considers philosophers such as Plato, Seneca, and Sartre – and of course cites beekeepers, in peace and war.

The work of making one’s soul is deadly serious, but it should not be anxious. “Bees are not tame creatures; nor is the moral life a safe one. But it is, in the end, very beautiful and full of joy.” Underneath is a confidence in the ultimate goodness of the world, which, like the garden where the beekeeper tends his hives, knows how to bud and mend, grow and yield again.

Throughout the text, Wilson weaves in the Benedictine philosophy of stewardship. He advocates for a “gentle hand,” suggesting that the best beekeeper is one who works with the bees’ instincts rather than fighting against them. This philosophy – known as the “Buckfast” philosophy – of breeding for docility and productivity became the hallmark of the Buckfast Bee.

Many associate Buckfast Abbey primarily with Brother Adam (the creator of the Buckfast Bee), but it was actually Dom Gabriel who served as the Abbey’s head beekeeper before him. The bigger picture of the book implies that if Brother Adam was the “architect” of the Buckfast Bee, then Dom Gabriel was the “master builder” who cleared the ground. The analogy should not be overlooked.

   

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