Essay
AI
Culture
9 min read

Here’s why AI needs a theology of tech

As AI takes on tasks once exclusively human, we start to doubt ourselves. We need to set the balance right.

Oliver Dürr is a theologian who explores the impact of technology on humanity and the contours of a hopeful vision for the future. He is an author, speaker, podcaster and features in several documentary films.

In the style of an icon of the Council of Nicea, theologians look on as a cyborg and humanoid AI shake hands
The Council of Nicaeai, reimagined.
Nick Jones/Midjourney.ai

AI is all the rage these days. Researchers branching into natural and engineering sciences are thriving, and novel applications enter the market every week. Pop culture explores various utopian and dystopian future visions. A flood of academic papers, journalistic commentary and essays, fills out the picture.  

Algorithms are at the basis of most activities in the digital world. AI-based systems work at the interface with the analogue world, controlling self-driving cars and robots. They are transforming medical practices - predicting, preventing, diagnosing and supporting therapy. They even support decision-making in social welfare and jurisprudence. In the business sector, they are used to recruit, sell, produce and ship. Much of our infrastructure today crucially depends on algorithms. But while they foster science, research, and innovation, they also enable abuse, targeted surveillance, regulation of access to information, and even active forms of behavioural manipulation. 

The remarkable and seemingly intellectual achievements of AI applications uniquely confront us with our self-understanding as humans: What is there still categorically that distinguishes us from the machines we build? 

In all these areas, AI takes on tasks and functions that were once exclusive to humans. For many, the comparison and competition between humans and (algorithmically driven) machines are obvious. As these lines are written, various applications are flooding the market, characterized by their ‘generative' nature (generative AI). These algorithms, such OpenAI’s the GPT series, go further than anyone expected. Just a few years ago, it was hard to foresee that mindless computational programs could autonomously generate texts that appear meaningful, helpful, and in many ways even ‘human’ to a human conversation partner. Whether those innovations will have positive or negative consequences is still difficult to assess at this point.  

For decades, research has aimed to digitally model human capabilities - our perception, thinking, judging and action - and allow these models to operate autonomously, independent of us. The most successful applications are based on so-called deep learning, a variant of AI that works with neural networks loosely inspired by the functioning of the brain. Technically, these are multilayered networks of simple computational units that collectively encode a potentially highly complex mathematical function.  

You don’t need to understand the details to realize that, fundamentally, these are simple calculations but cleverly interconnected. Thus, deep learning algorithms can identify complex patterns in massive datasets and make predictions. Despite the apparent complexity, no magic is involved here; it is simply applied mathematics. 

Moreover, this architecture requires no ‘mental' qualities except on the part of those who design these programs and those who interpret their outputs. Nevertheless, the achievements of generative AI are astonishing. What makes them intriguing is the fact that their outputs can appear clever and creative – at least if you buy into the rhetoric. Through statistical exploration, processing, and recombination of vast amounts of training data, these systems generate entirely new texts, images and film that humans can interpret meaningfully.  

The remarkable and seemingly intellectual achievements of AI applications uniquely confront us with our self-understanding as humans: Is there still something categorically that distinguishes us from the machines we build? This question arises in the moral vacuum of current anthropology. 

Strictly speaking, only embodied, living and vulnerable humans really have problems that they solve or goals they want to achieve... Computers do not have problems, only unproblematic states they are in. 

The rise of AI comes at a time when we are doubting ourselves. We question our place in the universe, our evolutionary genesis, our psychological depths, and the concrete harm we cause to other humans, animals, and nature as a whole. At the same time, the boundaries between humans and animals and those between humans and machines appear increasingly fuzzy.  

Is the human mind nothing more than the sum of information processing patterns comparable to similar processes in other living beings and in machine algorithms? Enthusiastic contemporaries believe our current AI systems are already worthy of being called ‘conscious’ or even ‘personal beings.’ Traditionally, these would have been attributed to humans exclusively (and in some cases also to higher animals). Our social, political, and legal order, as well as our ethics, are fundamentally based on such distinctions.  

Nevertheless, companies such as OpenAI see in their product GPT-4 the spark of ‘artificial general intelligence,’ a form of intelligence comparable to or even surpassing humans. Of course, such statements are part of an elaborate marketing strategy. This tradition dates to John McCarthy, who coined the term “AI” and deliberately chose this over other, more appropriate, descriptions like “complex information processing” primarily because it sounded more fundable. 

Such pragmatic reasons ultimately lead to an imprecise use of ambiguous terms, such as ‘intelligence.’ If both humans and machines are indiscriminately called ‘intelligent,’ this generates confusion. Whether algorithms can sensibly be called ‘intelligent’ depends on whether this term refers to the ability to perform simple calculations, process data, the more abstract ability to solve problems, or even the insightful understanding (in the sense of Latin intellectus) that we typically attribute only to the embodied reason of humans.  

However, this nuanced view of ‘intelligence’ was given up under the auspices of the quest for an objectively scientific understanding of the subject. New approaches deliberately exclude the question of what intelligence is and limit themselves to precisely describing how these processes operate and function.  

Current deep learning algorithms have become so intricate and complex that we can’t always understand how they arrive at their results. These algorithms are transparent but not in how they reach a specific conclusion; hence, they are also referred to as black-box algorithms. Some strands in the cognitive sciences understand the human mind as a kind of software running on the hardware of the body. If that were the case, the mind could be explained through the description of brain states, just like the software on our computers.  

However, these paradigms are questionable. They cannot explain what it feels like to be a conscious person, to desire things, be abhorred by other things and to understand when something is meaningful and significant. They have no grasp on human freedom and the weight of responsibility that comes with leading a life. All of these human capacities require, among other things, an understanding of the world, that cannot be fully captured in words and that cannot be framed as a mathematical function.  

There are academic studies exploring the conception of embodied, embedded, enactive, and extended cognition, which offer a more promising direction. Such approaches explore the role of the body and the environment for intelligence and cognitive performance, incorporating insights from philosophy, psychology, biology, and robotics. These approaches think about the role our body as a living organism plays in our capacity to experience, think and live with others. AI has no need for such a living body. This is a categorical difference between human cognition and AI applications – and it is currently not foreseeable that those could be levelled (at least not with current AI architectures). Therefore, in the strictest sense, we cannot really call our algorithms ‘intelligent' unless we explicitly think of this as a metaphor. AI can only be called 'intelligent' metaphorically because these applications do not 'understand' the texts they generate, and those results do not mean anything to them. Their results are not based on genuine insight or purposes for the world in which you and I live. Rather they are generated purely based on statistical probabilities and data-based predictions. At most, they operate with the human intelligence that is buried in the underlying training data (which human beings have generated).  

However, all of this generated material has meaning and validity only for embodied humans. Strictly speaking, only embodied, living and vulnerable humans really have problems that they solve or goals they want to achieve (with, for example, the help of data-based algorithms). Computers do not have problems, only unproblematic states they are in. Therefore, algorithms appear 'intelligent' only in contexts where we solve problems through them. 

 When we do something with technology, technology always also does something to us. 

AI does not possess intrinsic intelligence and simulates it only due to human causation. Therefore, it would be more appropriate to speak of ‘extended intelligence': algorithms are not intelligent in themselves, but within the framework of human-machine systems, they represent an extension of human intelligence. Or even better would be to go back behind McCarthy and talk about 'complex information processing.’ 

Certainly, such a view is still controversial today. There are many philosophical, economic, and socio-political incentives to attribute human qualities to algorithms and, at the same time, to view humans as nothing more than biological computers. Such a view already shapes the design of our digital future in many places. Putting it bluntly, calling technology ‘intelligent’ makes money. 

What would an alternative, more holistic view of the future look like that took the makeup of humanity seriously?  

A theology of technology (Techniktheologie) tackles this question, ultimately placing it in the horizon of belief in God. However, it begins by asking how technology can be integrated into our lives in such a way that it empowers us to do what we truly want and what makes life better. Such an approach is neither for or against technology but rather sober and critical in the analytical sense. Answering those questions requires a realistic understanding of humans, technology, and their various entanglements, as well as the agreement of plural societies on the goals and values that make a good life.  

When we do something with technology, technology always also does something to us. Technology is formative, meaning it changes our experience, perception, imagination, and thus also our self-image and the future we can envision. AI is one of the best examples of this: designing AI is designing how people can interact with a system, and that means designing how they will have to adapt to it. Humans and technology cannot be truly isolated from each other. Technology is simply part of the human way of life.  

And yet, we also need to distinguish humans from technology despite all the entanglements: humans are embodied, rational, free, and endowed with incomparable dignity as images of God, capable of sharing values and articulating goals on the basis of a common (human) way of life. Even the most sophisticated deep learning applications are none of these. Only we humans live in a world where responsibility, sin, brokenness, and redemption matter. Therefore it is up to us to agree on how we want to shape the technologized future and what values should guide us on this path.  

Here is what theology can offer the development of technology. Theology addresses the question of the possible integration of technology into the horizon of a good life. Any realistic answer to this question must combine an enlightened understanding of technology with a sober view of humanity – seeing both human creative potential and their sinfulness and brokenness. Only through and with humans will our AI innovations genuinely serve the common good and, thus, a better future for all.  

 

Find out more about this topic: Assessing deep learning: a work program for the humanities in the age of artificial intelligence 

Review
Culture
Film & TV
Fun & play
Justice
5 min read

Boom! I love this new Superman!

Eschewing ennui, it’s a great fairy tale for the modern age
Superman talks to his dog amid the ice.
Superman and Krypto the dog.
Warner Bros.

…and that’s what makes this film so enjoyable! 

Oh, apologies for any confusion.  

No tortuously ‘relevant’ preamble from me today. I’m starting the review right in the middle of the action, because that is exactly what Superman does. No initial slog through a ‘backstory’ that everyone knows – even my wife, who has never read a comic book in her life, is familiar with who and what Superman is. The closest we get to contextualisation is a quick sequence of text: informing us that Superman landed 30 years ago (adopted by the Kent couple, and given the name Clark), began his superhero career three years ago, stopped the fictional nation of Boravia invading the equally fictional Jarhanpur three weeks ago, and three minutes ago lost a battle for the first time. 

Boom! 

Then straight into the action! 

Superman lands in the frozen tundra of the Antarctic and can barely breathe. He lets out a whistle and the next thing we know there is a tremendous snowy disturbance. Krypto the Superdog dashes into view! No explanation – just delight in the fact that there is a mischievous canine with unbelievable power. Krypto drags Superman ‘home’ to the Fortress of Solitude. There the Superman robots heal him with a concentrated dose of radiation from the Yellow Sun which gives him his power. He immediately departs to continue his bout against the nationalist supervillain ‘Hammer of Boravia’, who is secretly being controlled by the evil genius and billionaire Lex Luthor. 

The pace of this film isn’t fast…its hypersonic. It flies by at the speed of Superman himself. There isn’t any lag, any let up. Even the quieter moments, such as those meditating on Superman’s dual identities (the alien superhero Kal El/Superman and the human reporter Clark) or his burgeoning relationship with investigative journalist Lois Lane, keep the story moving. Exposition doesn’t take place through inexplicable monologues; it is always pacy conversation, which teaches us something about the characters and their relationships and their motivations. 

This is the great triumph of writer/director/producer James Gunn. After his success over at Marvel Studios, he has taken the helm of DC and started to create a universe of characters and stories that doesn’t waste time with painful ‘exploration’ and moralising. This was always the issue that held DC films (arguably featuring the more beloved and well-known characters in comic-book culture) back from matching the success of Marvel. Christopher Nolan is a genius, giving us a superb Batman trilogy, and Zac Snyder produced an underrated dark take on Superman, but neither seemed to delight in the bright, bubble-gum, kaleidoscopic colourfulness of the comic-book medium. 

Gunn refuses to make his Superman film gritty or realistic. Characters appear in all their flash and bombast and are welcomed as cheery additions. The ‘Justice Gang’ are simply there – including the always enjoyable Nathan Fillion with an arrogant smirk and an almost offensive bowl cut. Luthor’s genius allows his to create a parallel dimension…why couldn’t he!? If we can suspend our disbelief to accept a protagonist who is an alien superhero, why not a mini-universe?  

There is none of the former focus on psychological trauma and existential crisis and the sheer overwhelming ennui of being. In previous films the ethical lesson wasn’t just ‘on the nose’…it flattened your nose with a Mike Tysonesque haymaker! Here, Superman simply IS. He IS good. He IS upstanding. He IS fighting for truth and justice. He refuses to allow political and public-relations considerations to corrupt and dilute his absolute commitment to do (and to BE) what is right. One of the most dramatic scenes isn’t a grand battle, it is a quiet moment where Clark allows Lois to interview him as Superman. The more she questions the realpolitik implications of stopping an invasion, the more Clark becomes incensed. How could someone not allow themselves to save innocent life and serve justice to the oppressed against the oppressor? 

The film is such a ‘sigh of relief’ in a bloated comic-book-film market. Yes, the script is hilarious – this is Gunn’s forte. Yes, the music is sublime – both John Murphy and David Fleming’s score (with wonderful nods to the John Williams original) and Mr Gunn’s own needle-drops. The performances are excellent across the board – special mention to David Corenswet, who doesn’t quite look like Superman to me…but boy does he embody the very essence of the character, to the point where you can’t imagine anyone else having played the alien since Christopher Reeve. But its truest strength and victory is its joy in the simplicity (especially moral) of this comic-book genre. 

This is what is so refreshing about Gunn’s vision. Superman IS pure. Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult not missing a baldy beat) IS so prideful and vain that it has warped him into something twisted and evil and collapsing in upon his own ego. Watching the film, I was put in mind of C. S. Lewis’ writing on the nature of fairy tales: 

“For in the fairy tales, side by side with the terrible figures, we find the immemorial comforters and protectors, the radiant ones…” 

Comic-books are the great fairy tales of the modern age…why would we make them brooding deconstructions of the human condition, a la Cormac McCarthy? That isn’t their point or purpose. Lewis again: 

“Since it is so likely that they [children] will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.” 

Gunn has given us a film that isn’t just fun and fluffy, but important. In his sugary, childlike wonder and delight in the genre, he has given us a tale of good versus evil that is a true fairy tale: something gleaming and good, something radiant and right, something attractive and aspirational. Superman is a fairy tale where we can be comforted and emboldened by the moral (nay, ontological!) certainties of love and hope.  

5 stars

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