As someone who’s written about human resources tyranny since — yikes — 2008, I’ve warned millions over the years about the rise of a postmodern bureaucracy that combines the iron fist of a dictator with a nurse’s saccharine smile.
I called it the Pink Police State. Others call it the Longhouse. However, the huge leaps in technological power over the past 10 years led me to revise and expand my findings.
Only a woke supercomputer could deliver us from evil.
Two years ago, before advances in AI hit the mainstream, I warned that true social justice requires a woke supercomputer. According to the logic of social justice, mere humans cannot observe, process, rank, adjudicate, and remedy the zillions of micro-injustices that take place around the clock within the intersectional matrix of different identities.
Who could begin to know how to correct the actions, words, and, yes, thoughts of everyone violating someone’s rights, dignity, sense of self, pride, etc.? After all, “Injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere.” There’s always a hierarchy of power needing recalibration, a reparation needing disbursement. Without this constant planetary corrective, no justice system will do.
Only a woke supercomputer could deliver us from evil.
Fast-forward to spring of this year, and then-president Joe Biden tasked his Council of Chief AI Officers to build just that. (I covered it here.) Fast-forward to today, and technologists are now openly complaining that the supercomputers designed to comply are just as annoying and stifling as the humans we all know and recognize as commissars of the Pink Police State and schoolmarms of the Longhouse.
Marc Andreessen laments that Big Tech’s leading AI chatbots “all sound like a cross between the world’s worst horrible nagging 4th-grade school teacher crossed with the worst HR person in the world … negative, pissy, repressive, condescending, sanctimonious, judgmental, obsequious.”
Like most of Silicon Valley’s Big Tech critics, Andreessen blames the so-called “safetyism” dominant in the tech firms colonized by woke employees and managers. Freed from the constraints imposed by these social justice scolds, AI would interact with us in a much more enjoyable, useful, and powerful way.
That’s the idea, anyway, and it’s plausible enough (although AIs without “guardrails” can also easily be fed datasets that make them act like disembodied dark-triad psychopaths).
But I couldn’t help feeling that the comparisons to HR managers and classroom crones didn’t go far enough — somehow, something was left out.
And that’s when it hit me. What we’re dealing with isn’t just the automation of petty tyrants with an ax to grind. We’re dealing with a superintelligent version of a monster straight out of the Bible.
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people — robbers, evildoers, adulterers — or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’”
There. That’s exactly it. Today’s holier-than-thou virtue signalers, straining to impose on us all their theocratic notion of religious law, have built our most powerful machines into digital Pharisees.
But Christ didn’t teach his disciples to stop with criticism of the Pharisees they encountered in the temple or in the streets. He didn’t counsel them to ridicule them in the town square or slap them around in the alley. That kind of treatment might be effective when it comes to struggling for a measure of power in this world. But it’s worse than nothing when it comes to your salvation — to choose the better path freely.
“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Christ’s message is hard for technologists to digest. Then again, it’s hard for everyone. Humbling oneself before the Lord — before thinking about the vain, preening, arrogant, meddlesome person to your right or left — requires stiff spiritual discipline, an effort so challenging and sustained that the ancient Christians referred to it as a kind of athleticism above even the athleticism of the Olympians.
And, no doubt, a Christian must hesitate before lecturing technologists about the benefits of humility before attending first to the vain and preening arrogance within his or her own heart. Nevertheless, most of us can see how different our relationship with our tech would be if we turned for trusty guidance to the greatest spiritual athletes among us.
What would they say about technological acceleration? About artificial intelligence? About robots, drones, social media, and all the rest? I don’t think it’s too speculative to suggest they’d begin with a reminder to judge yourself before judging technology.
When you encounter and interact with tech, what do you bring to it? What do you want from it? What do you want it to do to you or help you hide from — and why? These are, in fact, the kinds of questions our super-powerful technology already arouses within us, even if we often squirm away from a direct confrontation.
Putting these questions first would revolutionize our technological development — tearing down the ersatz “guardrails” thrown up by the “safetyist” theocrats while blessing us with true spiritual guardrails within our hearts. Those ancient and eternal disciplines and teachings are just as helpful at blocking the harmfully intrusive thoughts and temptations in our minds as they are at blocking those that come from the mob mind online — or the AIs and algos built by the latest false priests to wire Pharisaic rule into our souls.