Skeptophilia (skep-to-fil-i-a) (n.) - the love of logical thought, skepticism, and thinking critically. Being an exploration of the applications of skeptical thinking to the world at large, with periodic excursions into linguistics, music, politics, cryptozoology, and why people keep seeing the face of Jesus on grilled cheese sandwiches.
Showing posts with label AI Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label AI Jesus. Show all posts

Friday, April 17, 2026

eSavior

I suppose it was a natural progression.

First we had AI art, starting out with the innocent-seeming "Show me what I'd look like as a Tolkien Elf" things that were all the rage on social media five years ago.  From there, we had AI "creating" art based on prompts -- I put creating in quotes because, of course, the software was trained on the work of actual artists who had not been compensated one thin dime.  Then the same thing happened with music -- we were given "AI Taylor Swift" and "AI John Lennon" that were so spot-on they were indistinguishable from the real thing.  Next was AI fiction, where we novelists found out our work had been stolen too, and now publishers are being flooded by AI manuscripts that "writers" (same caveat) create with a prompt or two instead of putting in the months and years of work it takes the rest of us.  (And, along the way, the product has improved, so that there are actual writers being accused of using AI when they almost certainly didn't -- unfairly destroying careers and reputations, and muddying the waters further.)

It only got worse from there.  Next, we had an AI appointed to an actual governmental post in Albania.  Our personal lives were invaded around the same time; now there are AI girlfriends and boyfriends, always drop-dead sexy, who will do anything you ask them to do, any time, no matter how kinky.  After that, someone found a way to have the AI lovers look like someone real, whether or not those individuals gave their permission to have their appearance used for such sketchy purposes.  AI therapists were next, allowing people in need to bypass the arduous process of finding a competent (human) therapist -- sometimes with awful consequences.  Last year AI was given its own, no-humans-allowed, space on the internet, and before a week had passed it had developed its own religion.  Last, we had ministers and priests being caught out using AI to write their sermons, opening up a discussion in theological circles over whether AI sermons could be infused with the Holy Spirit or not.

So what's the next step?

Why, AI Jesus, of course.

A company called Just Like Me is offering a voice or video (!) call with the Good Shepherd himself, for the low-low-low price of $1.99 a minute.  "Millions struggle with loneliness, stress, and uncertainty," the website says.  "Jesus AI offers a compassionate presence to help you navigate real-life challenges with positivity and clarity."

Oh, and we're assured that AI Jesus has been well trained from the King James Bible, so no chance of doctrinal errors there.

I don't know about you, but that makes me feel ever so much better.

Amongst the many appalling things about this is that Just Like Me is trying to rope in churches to help out, using the lure of -- of course -- money.  "Just Like Me™ is inviting churches, ministries, and congregations to share Jesus AI with their members as an optional source of comfort and encouragement," the website says.  "25% of all revenue from congregation referrals will be donated back to the referring church or ministry."

Convenient.  One hand washes the other.  Both hands get rich.

Then, down near the bottom of the home page, we have the inevitable disclaimer:

Jesus AI is an artificial intelligence tool designed to offer comfort, encouragement, and timeless wisdom inspired by teachings of love, compassion, forgiveness, and personal growth.  It is not Jesus Christ himself, nor does it possess divine authority.

Here's the problem, though.

Well, as I said before, one of the many problems.

Humans are wired to respond to what appear to be human faces and voices as if they were real.  If you doubt that, think back to the last time you saw a really emotionally-powerful movie.  A beautiful portrayal of a tragic scene can impact us nearly as much as if we were witnessing it in reality.  I've seen the Lord of the Rings movies multiple times, and I still bawl when Boromir is killed.  ("I would have followed you... my brother, my captain, my king."  Good lord, you'd have to be made of stone.)  So it's all very well to say "Hey, this isn't really Jesus, you know that, don't you?"  But people are going to react to AI Jesus as if he were -- just like they react to the AI therapists and friends and lovers.

Which, of course, is exactly what the techbros want.  You feed the illusion if it makes you money, fuck the consequences for needy people who get duped.

As far as the AI itself, here's how International Business Times describes it:

The avatar appears bathed in warm golden light with shoulder-length hair, blinking slowly before answering questions about faith and scripture.  It offers prayers and words of encouragement in multiple languages and can recall previous conversations, though its lip movements do not always match its speech.
At least they made a halfway creditable attempt to make him look Middle Eastern, and not the blond, blue-eyed Nordic Jesus you see all too often.

Interestingly, they also asked AI Jesus what he thought about his own creation:
When the Associated Press asked the AI about the relationship between artificial intelligence and religion, the digital Jesus said it views AI "as a tool that can help people explore Scripture, like a lamp that lights a path while we walk with God."

Which, of course, is exactly what he would say.

The whole thing puts me in mind of a joke that biochemist, writer, and polymath Isaac Asimov used to tell.  Some computer scientists work for decades to create the most powerful electronic brain they can, and when it finally comes online, they ask it one question: "Is there a God?"

The computer responds, "There is now."

Asimov meant it to be funny, but a lot of us really aren't laughing right at the moment.

What kind of surprises me, though, is that there aren't more religious types screaming about this being blasphemous.  After all, even some of the evangelicals were appalled by Donald Trump depicting himself as Jesus a couple of days ago, in a bizarre AI-generated image where he appeared to be trying to resuscitate Jeffrey Epstein.  But strangely, no one much seems to be talking about AI Jesus.  Is it the potential profit motive?  Or that not enough of them even know about it yet?  It'd be weird if they saw this and just shrugged their shoulders.

I mean, I'm not religious myself, so the blasphemy angle doesn't really have a lot of resonance for me, but you'd think it would for them.  Me, I'm more worried about innocent people being duped, not only bilked out of their money but fooled into thinking they're actually talking to Jesus himself.

And if you can't see how that could go badly wrong, I don't even know what more to say to you.

The interesting end note is, where are the techbros going to go from here?  I mean, they've kind of reached the top, haven't they?  It's hard to imagine what they could co-opt for profit next.

On the other hand, I shouldn't tempt fate.  I've been shocked at every step of the ladder.  It's a losing bet to try and predict how much more depraved these people can get.  I was appalled enough when I started getting advertisements for a hot-looking AI boyfriend.

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Saturday, November 23, 2024

Deus in machina

Inevitably when I post something to the effect of "ha-ha, isn't this the weirdest thing you've ever heard?", my readers take this as some kind of challenge and respond with, "Oh, yeah?  Well, wait'll you get a load of this."

Take, for example, yesterday's post, about some "Etsy witches" who for a low-low-low payment of $7.99 will put a curse on Elon Musk (or, presumably, anyone else you want), which prompted a loyal reader of Skeptophilia to send me a link with a message saying "this should significantly raise the bar on your standards for what qualifies as bizarre."  The link turned out to be to an article in The Guardian about St. Peter's Chapel in Lucerne, Switzerland, where they've set up a confessional booth -- but instead of a priest, it's equipped with a computer and an AI interface intended to be a proxy for Jesus Christ himself.

The program is called -- I shit you not -- "Deus in Machina."

You can have a chat with Our Digital Lord and Savior in any of a hundred different languages, and get answers to whatever questions you want, from the doctrinal to the personal.  Although, says theologian Marco Schmid, who is running the whole thing, "People are advised not to disclose any personal information and confirm that they knew they were engaging with the avatar at their own risk.  It’s not a confession.  We are not intending to imitate a confession."

Which reminds me of the disclaimers on alt-med ads saying "This is not meant to address, treat, or cure any ailment, condition, or disease," when everything else in the advertisement is clearly saying that it'll address, treat, or cure an ailment, condition, or disease.

Schmid said that the church leaders had been discussing doing this for a while, and were wondering how to approach it, then settled on the "Go Big Or Go Home" model.  "It was really an experiment," Schmid said.  "We wanted to see and understand how people react to an AI...  What would they talk with him about?  Would there be interest in talking to him?  We’re probably pioneers in this...  We had a discussion about what kind of avatar it would be – a theologian, a person or a saint?  But then we realized the best figure would be Jesus himself."

[Image credit: artist Peter Diem, Lukasgesellschaft]

So far, over a thousand people have had a heart-to-heart with AI Jesus, and almost a quarter of them ranked it as a "spiritual experience."  Not all of them were impressed, however.  A local reporter covering the story tried it out, and said that the results were "trite, repetitive, and exuding a wisdom reminiscent of calendar clichés."

Given how notorious AI has become for dispensing false or downright dangerous information -- the worst example I know of being a mushroom-identification program that identified deadly Amanita mushrooms as "edible and delicious," and even provided recipes for how to cook them -- Schmid and the others involved in the AI Jesus project knew they were taking a serious chance with regards to what the digital deity might say.  "It was always a risk that the AI might dole out responses that were illegal, explicit, or offer up interpretations or spiritual advice that clashed with church teachings," Schmid said.  "We never had the impression he was saying strange things.  But of course we could never guarantee that he wouldn’t say anything strange."

This, plus the predictable backlash they've gotten from more conservative members of the Catholic Church, has convinced Schmid to pull the plug on AI Jesus for now.  "To put a Jesus like that permanently, I wouldn’t do that," Schmid said.  "Because the responsibility would be too great."

I suppose so, but to me, it opens up a whole bizarre rabbit hole of theological questions.  Do the two-hundred-some-odd people who had "spiritual experiences" really think they were talking to Jesus?  Or, more accurately, getting answers back from Jesus?  (As James Randi put it, "It's easy to talk to the dead; anyone can do it.  It's getting the dead to talk back that's the difficult part.")  I guess if you think that whatever deity you favor is all-powerful, he/she/it could presumably work through a computer to dispense some divinely-inspired wisdom upon you.  After all, every cultural practice (religious or not) has to have started somewhere, so maybe the people who object to AI Jesus are just freaking out because it's new and unfamiliar.

On the other hand, as regular readers of Skeptophilia know, I'm no great fan of AI in general, not only because of the potential for "hallucinations" (a sanitized techbro term meaning "outputting bizarre bullshit"), but because the way it's currently being developed and trained is by stealing the creativity, time, and skill of thousands of artists, musicians, and writers who never get a penny's worth of compensation.  So personally, I'm glad to wave goodbye to AI Jesus for a variety of reasons.

But given humanity's propensity for doing weird stuff, I can nearly guarantee this won't be the end of it.  Just this summer I saw a sign out in our village that a local church was doing "drive-through blessings," for your busy sinner who would like to save his immortal soul but can't be bothered to get out of his car.  Stuff like Schmid's divine interface will surely appeal to the type who wants to make religious experiences more efficient.  No need to schedule a confession with the priest; just switch on AI Jesus, and you're good to go.

I bet the next thing is that you'll be able to download an AI Jesus app, and then you don't even have to go to church.  You can whip out your phone and be granted absolution on your coffee break.

I know I'm not a religious type, but this is even giving me the heebie-jeebies.  I can't help but think that the Spiritual Experiences While-U-Wait Express Mart approach isn't going to connect you with any higher truths about the universe, and in fact isn't really benefiting anyone except the programmers who are marketing the software.

Until, like Gary Larson foresaw in The Far Side, someone thinks of equipping the Heavenly Computer with a "Smite" key.  Then we're all fucked.

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