Whenever someone brings up the topic of Artificial Intelligence I can’t help but get a little uneasy. Sure, some of that has got to do with AI’s potential to inhibit human creativity, but mainly I think: The advent of a super intelligence, like any technological advancement of the past, is inevitable. In the mid-nineteenth century, people feared getting on the railroad because they thought anything faster than a horse was a one-way ticket to the grave. One hundred years later, Neil Armstrong is taking mankind’s first step on the moon.
Technology is a tool. It can be used to save lives or to take them, to connect people or to distract them, to free us or enslave us. The outcome depends on the hands of the user. What would a superintelligence look like in the hands of sinners? What are the consequences of programming our fallible reasoning into a machine that turns such reasoning into preconditions of truth?
Of course, there are reasons to remain optimistic about the role of AI. I’m certainly not about to suggest a total stoppage of AI development. But I adhere to the logic of Jurassic Park’s Dr. Ian Malcom. “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.”
Human Cyborb Relations
Part of what inspired me to write this post was a clip from an interview with Geoffrey Hinton, dubbed the “godfather of AI.” According to Hinton, there’s a 50/50 chance that we’ll get a superintelligence–that is, AI smarter than humans–in the next twenty years. The rate at which AI technology is improving is rapid. He makes the point that in 2014 few would have believed you if you said in ten years AI would be forming arguments as good as or better than the average person. But that’s what we’re seeing with language learning models like Chat GPT 4. Who knows what we’ll see in another ten years.
“How many examples can you tell me about where a more intelligent thing is controlled by a less intelligent thing?” That’s a question Hinton poses to the interviewer. Intelligence is measured in all sorts of ways, but on a purely computational level, when AI inevitably surpasses human ability, will we be able to control it? Or, like Dr. Frankenstein, will we be forced to reckon with the monster we created?
The creator-creation dynamic is at the heart of what I want to write about today. As fallen beings, it’s in our nature to see ourselves not as creations, but rather as little gods. And as little gods, we too long to create. The desire is part of what it means to be made in God’s likeness. In Genesis, God looked at us and saw that it was good. We are trying to do the same with our own creations. But no matter how creative or ingenious our invention, it will always run up against the same force that damaged God’s perfect creation in the Garden of Eden: the distortion of the truth, excused by reason, resulting in sin.
Just as the Greeks envisioned the gods of Olympus with the same strengths and flaws that enshrined the city of Athens, twenty-first-century scientists can’t help but use the values of their day and age to create our modern-day idols.
The Rules of Creation
How can we make a superintelligence not want to take over? It all starts with the right rules.
Let’s look at Issac Asimov’s 1950 science fiction novel I, Robot.
The novel is an anthology of sorts, describing various interactions between human engineers and scientists and the robots they have been tasked with overseeing. In every chapter, we jump ahead in time as technology improves. From a non-talking robot to a god-like machine, we see human characters testing the limits of the positronic brain. Like many science fiction stories, the classic question “What does it mean to be human” is at the heart of the narrative.
A non-religious answer to that question could be sentience, an awareness of your own existence, intelligence, and power, and a desire to survive. The utility of fiction, particularly science fiction, is that we can push the boundaries of this reasoning. In a world of artificially intelligent beings, how does the creator respect the consciousness of its creation? What rules does the creator impose to maintain control?
Glad you asked. Here are Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics, the rules programmed into the core of the robot’s brain by which all decisions are made.
- A robot may not injure a human being, or through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
- A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
- A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.
I want to perform a little thought experiment. What if God had created us with a similar set of laws? I’m not talking about the Ten Commandments here, but in-built conditions that are impossible to violate.
Do No Harm
Imagine God’s First Law of Creation reading: A human may not injure a human being, or through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Cain is physically incapable of killing Abel. Murder is impossible. Wars become obsolete. Even emotional hurts like betrayal, rejection, and shame are no longer in play. This would not be because of our own doing but as a result of a predetermined condition. The absence of condemnable action does not acquit us of blame in a post-Fall world. It doesn’t even get to the heart of the problem.
Here is what Jesus says in Matthew.
“You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders who be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment.”
Matthew 5:21-22
This goes along with Jesus drawing a direct parallel between a person looking with lust upon another and committing adultery. The state of the heart is what matters. We sin even if we do not (or in my hypothetical, cannot) act on our sinful desires.
Would humanity be better off with this first law? It’s easy to think so. But I think God allows us to experience the very worst humanity has to offer so that we can experience the very best, that is, a glimpse of the harmony of heaven. Would we ever appreciate peace without war? Gentleness without aggression? Heroism without villainy?
Restricting our ability to act on our intent to harm would make us like tea kettles unable to boil. We would stew in our anger and resentment, unable to strike out, cause harm, face the consequences, and hopefully learn and grow as people. Without hurt, we wouldn’t have the opportunity to forgive or be forgiven. Without forgiveness, can there be love?
From the Lap of God
God’s Second Law of Creation: A human must obey the orders given it by God except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
In I, Robot the robopsychologist character makes an interesting point, “In human beings, voluntary action is much slower than reflex action. But that’s not the case with robots; with them it is merely a question of freedom of choice, otherwise the speeds of free and forced action are much the same.”
If God programmed total obedience into us like the scientists did robots in Asimov’s novel, then we would lose our freedom of choice. What we would do out of our own free will and what we are compelled to do would look exactly the same. Obedience would become involuntary. Why do you obey someone? Because you recognize and respect their higher authority. You choose to respect it based on observations of supremacy that warrant your submission.
When we say “Not my will but yours be done” we are not acting out of pure instinct. Submission to authority is not a reflex action that any respectable human possesses. Rather it’s an action based on reflection which is based on faith that the authority knows better than we do.
Reflexive obedience makes faith meaningless. Not only that, but it would breed resentment toward God. “All normal life . . . resents domination,” says the robopsychologist. I think mankind would long to be free not of sin, but of the heavenly force that kept them from indulging in it.
Dutch-American theologian Cornelius Van Til makes an interesting observation related to this. “I saw a little girl one day on a train sitting on the lap of her ‘daddy’ slapping him in the face. If the ‘daddy’ had not held her on his lap she would not have been able to slap him.”
God’s gift of voluntary obedience emphasizes his desire to have personal relationships with us. Following His will for our lives isn’t solely a means to an end, it’s a journey that allows us to grow in love and faith for the author of life.
No Risk, No Reward
God’s Third Law of Creation: A human must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.
Our survival instinct is incredibly strong. Laura Hillenbrand’s book Unbroken is my favorite testament to this. But for there to be a law preventing us from putting ourselves in harm’s way? Granted, with the First and Second Laws in play, the need to intervene in dangerous situations would be dramatically lower than in the real world. So for the sake of argument, let’s discuss this law in a vacuum.
Where is sacrifice with self-preservation? What about John 15:13? “There is no greater love than this–that a man should lay down his life for his friends.” Or to be less extreme, avoiding risk and playing it safe? If comfort and security were among our highest priorities, then that wouldn’t jibe with the Christian ethos. We’d be worrying more about protecting our earthly body than our heavenly spirit. That’s proof in and of itself that robots programmed this way are just another material thing. They are made for this world, bound to this world. We were made for something greater than a utilitarian effort to aid progress.
Rules of Man
So why does any of this matter? Humans aren’t robots, so what’s the point in imagining ourselves as God’s worker elves, devoid of all autonomy?
Without the Bible, without the gospel, without the hope that we have in heaven, then the Rules of Robotics become more and more attractive as the Rules of Man.
Near the end of Asimov’s novel, the scientists are discussing the character of a certain Stephen Byerlely, who is running for public office. He’s an extremely well-qualified candidate, impressive in every way. However, he has one quirk: he doesn’t eat. Rumors about Mr. Byerly’s biological makeup begin to circulate. Dr. Calvin looks into and is confronted with a question: What if Mr. Byerly is a robot? Would the city be in worse hands than it would be under a human mayor?
“If Byerley follows all the Rules of Robotics, he may be a robot, and may simply be a very good man.” As another character goes on to say: “I like robots. I like them considerably better than I do human beings . . . By the Laws of Robotics, he’d be incapable of harming humans, incapable of tyranny, of corruption, of stupidity, of prejudice.”
Mr. Byrelely sounds like the actualization of modern society’s vision of the ideal citizen. He is the answer to society’s woes about bad behavior. Why are people so mean to each other? If only people were kinder to each other. Can’t we all just get along?
If survival is humans’ first priority, then happiness is a close second. Some people think total autonomy, complete personal freedom, will allow them to unlock true happiness. So often, though, we use our freedom as Adam and Eve used theirs in the Garden. We listen to the voice in our ear telling us we can be little gods, that we are right to take what has been denied us.
So what’s the alternative to freedom? What happens when freedom all around doesn’t lead to everyone ‘just getting along’? We want laws that will give us the happiness we are unable to secure for ourselves. I wonder how many people would be perfectly comfortable with a sci-fi scenario where a mandated brain implant makes harming others impossible, where obedience to the laws of the land is absolute, and where personal safety and comfort are valued above all else.
Thus, the Rules of Robotics are simply extreme versions of the character of Man, because the foundation of these ethical principles are grounded in values God instilled in us as our Creator. Gentleness, self-control, obedience, and perseverance are good. But as far as personal happiness is concerned, there’s danger in adhering to these values for no other reason than they’re ‘socially smiled upon.’
All-Powerful, All-Knowing, All-Good
“The universe is governed in the final instance not by laws and forces but by the sovereign will of God.” Our existence is contingent upon God’s act of upholding everything in the universe.”
Hebrews 1:3
If our actions are contingent upon God’s will, then why should we be held accountable? If God’s will cannot be violated, then what responsibility do we have to pursue what is good? On a psychological level, I think this is why people want laws and rules to begin with. We want clear boundaries. We want to hold others accountable to society’s standards. We want to feel safe and secure. More than that, we want a certainty of safety and security, and so now we want control over right and wrong so that whenever anyone steps out of line we can justifiably condemn them. To be held accountable by another, especially a God of the universe that promises eternal life for those who simply believe in Christ. . . where’s the control in that?
To accept God as sovereign and to still take responsibility for our actions might seem irreconcilable. I’ll let Richard Platt explain.
“God’s control of things is not contrary to the responsibility of man. It is the very foundation of it. If God were not in control He could not hold man responsible. Man is accountable to God because God is sovereign; he should obey God because God is in control of things. Moreover, man has significance because God has sovereignly ordained significance for man. Whatever responsibility we have is founded on God’s sovereignty, not in spite of it. Without God’s sovereignty man would have no responsibility.”
Richard Platt, Every Thought Captive: A Study Manual for the Defense of Christian Truth
If we lived in a universe created by random chance, there would be no real meaning to anything. Our actions only mean something because we were created by God who has a purpose and will for our lives. And unlike the outlook Asimov’s characters have toward their creation, God has given us a much greater purpose than advancing technical progress.
Science for Truth
As the creation of a sovereign Creator, our responsibilities dwell not in what is expedient but in what is good in the eyes of the Lord. Sure, sometimes what is expedient, what is convenient and practical in the moment, aligns with God’s will for our lives. But I find that our endless quest for greater and greater efficiency is masking a more fundamental quest to be safe and secure by our own means and through our own efforts. We erect one tower of Babel after another, each one just another manifestation of the serpent’s devious lie: “your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God.”
As I alluded to at the top of the post, striving for technological development is not inherently a bad thing. Yesterday, in honor of the 4th of July, I watched an Apollo Missions tribute video. The feat of engineering that landed the first man on the moon is an amazing thing. Something that one of the Apollo 15 astronauts really stuck out to me. “Okay Huston, as I stand out here in the wonders of the unknown at Hadley, I sort of realize there’s a fundamental truth to our nature: Man must explore!”
Creation is a beautiful thing.
“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard.”
Psalm 19:1-3
Every human discovery points to the glory of God. Just look at the Scientific Revolution. Many of the names involved during this era, from Newton to Galileo to Francis Bacon, were Christian. Science and technology can be used as a means to discover the majesty of God’s creation.
Problems arise when we view greater efficiency via technology as a means to reach a promised land of our own making, or to otherwise make an idol of our innovation. We may slap God with our pride, but it’s important to remember that He’s the one holding us on His lap. We’d be nothing if He ever let go.