Article
AI
Culture
Digital
3 min read

Am I a project or a person?

What we lose when we AI tempts us to refuse our limits
A multiple exposure image shows a womans head and shoulders looking ahead, to the sides and above.
Alex Bracken on Unsplash

Geoffrey Hinton, the so-called “godfather of AI,” was recently asked by a Financial Times journalist to consider a future in which human beings live among robots and gradually morph into cyborgs, their lives prolonged by artificial parts and chemical enhancements. His reply was strikingly casual: “What’s wrong with that?” Thankfully, his answer reflects a minority view today, but one that will grow significantly in both plausibility and appeal as the culture of Silicon Valley – animated by transhumanist ambitions and backed by enormous capital and influence – seeps into the ‘social imaginary’ of the West.  

In an individualist culture of ‘quantified selves,’ where self-optimization and wellbeing dominate the horizon of desire, it will take little to sell such enhancements, which will be promoted as not merely the means of surviving ‘rogue AIs’ but the way to flourishing. 

But this represents a profound distortion of what flourishing has meant across centuries of philosophical and theological reflection: the actualization of our true nature through the practice of virtue (Aristotle) and living in alignment with our proper end (telos), which is communion with God (Aquinas). Once tethered to a moral and spiritual vision of the human person, flourishing is fast becoming a runaway concept, thinned out on the anvil of individualism and moral autonomy, and conflated with the promise of expanding ad infinitum one’s capacities, choices, and life itself. It is precisely this  hyperindividualist vision that OpenAI CEO Sam Altman has in mind when he speaks of his mission of enabling ‘maximal human flourishing’.  

But the ethical and anthropological crisis we are entering cannot be resolved by neuroscience, secular anthropologies, let alone economics alone, but only through engaging with Christian anthropology. At the heart of the Christian faith stands the claim that Jesus Christ is the archetypal human, the “second Adam,” in St Paul’s phrase. Not simply in the sense that he is a morally and spiritually exemplary figure whose ethical teaching we might want to consider. But, more boldly, in the sense that all human beings - past, present, and future - are mysteriously caught up, redeemed and fulfilled in the person Christ. In his life, work, death, resurrection and ascension, humans are given the ultimate revelation not only of God, but also of what it means to be truly human and flourish. This means, among other things, that our limitations as creatures are not problems to be overcome but gifts to be honoured, the thresholds where God embraces us in grace. Our dependence and vulnerabilities are not defects to be corrected but the very conditions for fulfilling our humanity, in community, through the practices of faith (trust), hope, and love. 

Of course, there are distortions and privations that disfigure human life – disease, cruelty, injustice – which rightly summon humanity to acts of repair and resistance. As a product of God-given creativity, modern medicine and its many cures to previously fatal diseases is a huge blessing. But as biotechnology and AI continue to advance, the line between therapy and enhancement, healing and augmentation will likely become increasingly blurred. 

Against visions of human nature as infinitely plastic and of human beings as projects of self-invention, the Christian faith offers the liberating message that humanity is created, incorporated and will be fulfilled in Christ. To be human, then, is not to upgrade oneself without end to avoid vulnerability and death, but to be drawn into Christ, who died but was raised to life and glory. It is to find in him, and to practically outwork the measure of true, mutual flourishing, for the sake of the world. Only from this centre can we wisely discern how to receive and harness the gifts of technology without buying into its counterfeit promise of salvation. 

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Review
Culture
Film & TV
Friendship
5 min read

I’m going to cling on to The Ballad of Wallis Island

This comedy about fans and idols touches the heart too

Steve is news director of Article 18, a human rights organisation documenting Christian persecution in Iran.

A couple site on a sofa, one holds a guitar
Cary Mulligan and Tom Basden.

A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine told me I needed to see The Ballad of Wallis Island.  

He said I’d like it. In fact, my friend went so far as to say he thought it would be one of my favourite ever films.  

And now, having gone to see the new comedy-drama, I can confirm that he was right.  

But just what was it about this film - quite short by modern standards at 1 hour 40 - that marked it out as one I would so obviously enjoy?  

I was considering this as I sat through it, and as my guffaws eventually gave way to tears, I had my answer. 

For when it comes to films - or anything in life, really - it’s those with deeper meaning that most enthrall me. 

And James Griffiths’ new film certainly has this in spades - it’s a “ballad”, after all - as well as a good dose of humour, epitomised by the inimitable Tim Key, whom some of you may know from the 2022 sitcom Witchfinder. 

As someone who grew up on the painfully awkward comedy of Ricky Gervais’ The Office, Key’s character, Charles, the bumbling super-fan of a folk duo, is a perfect blend of the endearing and the ridiculous. 

From the moment “the great Herb McGwyer” (played by Tom Basden) arrives on Wallis Island to be met by a host who swiftly sends him head over heels into the sea, the stage is set for the relationship that will dominate the narrative. 

Devotee and artist, wealthy loner and lonely superstar provide the perfect juxtaposition, whose success is no doubt aided by the fact that both lead actors were also co-writers. 

One suspects the film’s success may also have something to do with the time it spent in development, having first been produced nearly two decades ago as a BAFTA-nominated comedy short, titled The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island

But having now watched both 2025 film and 2007 short, which is available to watch online, the feature-length version is, to my mind, by far the better of the two. 

And while some of the jokes from the original remain, such as the manner of Herb’s comical arrival and eventual departure - though I won’t spoil the latter for you - there are some notable improvements. 

Chief among them, in my eyes, are the three female characters incorporated into the film: Carey Mulligan, who plays the second half of the McGwyer-Mortimer duo; Charles’ unseen former partner, Marie; and his new love interest, in the form of Wallis Island’s solitary shop-owner, Amanda (Sian Clifford). 

It’s funny to think that my friend pitched the film to me as a “Rom-com”, given that in the original concept there was not even a single female character, let alone any romance. Yet from this viewer’s perspective at least, it is the addition of the three women (including the unseen Marie) that make the film. 

Indeed, this major tweak to the plotline was the very element that ultimately brought tears to my eyes, as I considered the relational loss and loneliness that provide the common ground between the otherwise worlds-apart super-fan and idol. 

I saw the same look in this woman’s eyes as I had seen in Charles’s as he watched his hero play the song that was his former partner’s favourite. 

I was also forced to reflect upon the certain similarity I seem to share with the blundering Charles, having once lived two doors down from the real Carey Mulligan and, during our sole face-to-face encounter, chose the moment to express my great admiration for the music of her husband, Marcus Mumford, before awkwardly and very swiftly beating my retreat. 

I am embarrassed to admit that I even later posted a copy of one of my books into the Mumford letterbox - possibly that very same day - in the hope that it might engender the start of a beautiful friendship.  

Alas, I never heard from them again. 

A similar motivation is clearly the driving force behind Charles’ invitation of his two idols to his home, which is filled with their memorabilia, as the audience is encouraged to consider how they may feel if given the opportunity to host their own heroes. 

“Never meet your heroes,” Charles quips in the original short, but in the film the relationships are allowed to reach greater depths and, in spite of some initial suggestions that Charles’ affections may be bordering on stalker-like, it soon becomes clear that there is nothing sinister about this loveable simpleton. 

The rave reviews the film has received, years after the idea was first hatched, are also surely an encouragement to any of us who may have long held a dream but never seen it come to pass. 

The message of The Ballad of Wallis Island, I believe, is that we should hold onto such dreams and cling tightly to the things that matter most. 

Before sitting down to write this article, I was walking through a local park when I passed a young woman who was sitting on the grass, crying, and I approached her to ask if she was all right.  

It transpired that the woman’s partner had died a year before and that she liked to come back to the tree under which she was sitting to remember him, as it was a special place for them. 

I saw the same look in this woman’s eyes as I had seen in Charles’s as he watched his hero play the song that was his former partner’s favourite. 

"Cling to the things that matter most,” the woman told me, as we parted ways. And that’s certainly the message that both film and chance encounter have impressed upon me.

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Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
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Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief