Father Joseph Ratzinger stated in 1973, “When works are all that exist, man, too, is nothing more than a work.”
The theme of “Synthetic Intelligence and Peace,” the focal point for this year’s World Day of Peace, delved into the “pressing issues” and “implications” of the ever-evolving modern technology landscape. Given the pervasive nature of AI in today’s world, this concept gains rapid significance. The Pope further elaborated on the future technology landscape, highlighting systems that possess autonomous learning capabilities. The report places a limitation on the “technocratic paradigm,” cautioning against the peril of relinquishing control over ourselves in the pursuit of utilizing technology to surmount all challenges, potentially leading to a state of “technological tyranny.”
In the face of the omnipresence of artificial intelligence, Joseph Ratzinger/Benedict XVI might have used the term “technological dictator.”
Looking back over 50 years ago, the visionary from Bavaria foresaw the emergence of the modern sphere and its potential to surpass human creators.
During the spring of 1973, Father Ratzinger delivered Lenten speeches at Regensburg’s St. Emmeram Church. These speeches were later compiled and published by Ignatius Press under the title “The God of Jesus Christ: Reflections on the Triune God.”
Before delving into the relevant excerpts from the speech “God Has Titles,” it appears that the core of the ethical dilemma surrounding AI stems from philosophical roots. It prompts us to ponder, “Where does God fit into this scenario?” This shift is observable in the transition from interpersonal customer interactions in daily life to the increasing impersonalism as we delve deeper into the realm of technology. The inquiry into the presence of God amidst the infinite digital realm becomes profoundly existential in the wake of the ever-expanding digital revolution reshaping every facet of existence.
In this context, we can seek guidance from the foresight of the potential Bishop of Rome.
Father Ratzinger reflects on a student’s proposition regarding the contrast between names and numbers. Drawing from the biblical account where God tells Moses, “I am who I am,” (Exodus 3:14), the teacher, inspired by the student’s insight, grounds his historical framework on this Exodus narrative. Ratzinger emphasizes the necessity for individuals to deviate from their routine and confront the solitude of the divine encounter, akin to Moses’ journey “beyond the wilderness” to “the mountain of God, Horeb” (Exodus 3:1). He underscores the inherent conflict between leading a religiously oriented life and the onward march of civilization.
In essence, one could echo Professor Ratzinger’s aphorism, “The world offers comfort, but you were not made for comfort. You were made to be great.”
Therefore, when God imparts His name to Moses, it signifies a personal identity rather than a mere numerical designation, an ethereal presence, or an indifferent omnipresence.
Ratzinger then shifts to referencing the Gospel of St. John, where the “name of God” is mentioned four times in Chapter 17, intricately linked to Jesus’ testimony regarding the revelation of God’s name to humanity. In this context, Jesus emerges as the new Moses, fulfilling the somewhat abstract and unfinished task from Exodus 3.
What does the “name of God” truly signify? Ratzinger probes this question, suggesting that understanding its essence may be simplified by examining its antithesis.
The Book of Revelation alludes to the “beast,” the adversary of God, with a singular designation, the force opposing the divine. Identified by the number six hundred and sixty-six, this entity epitomizes the dehumanizing force that reduces individuals to numerical entities. Those who endured the horrors of concentration camps understand the profound implications of this dehumanization, where individuals are stripped of their identity, reduced to numerical insignificance, and transformed into interchangeable cogs within a vast machinery. They are dehumanized, reduced to mere functions devoid of intrinsic worth.
“The only way to make him accessible for a computer is to translate him into numbers.” This statement encapsulates the essence of dehumanization in the digital age. While technology purports to serve humanity, cautionary tales from science fiction have long warned of the potential for these systems to subjugate their creators. However, Ratzinger’s insight delves deeper, portraying a scenario where humanity not only feeds data into the computational machinery but also forfeits its very essence to sustain the digital entity. In its quest for efficiency, AI commodifies human existence, devoid of the complexities of human emotions, desires, and vulnerabilities. Yet, amidst this impending dehumanization, Ratzinger offers a beacon of hope:
“God, however, has a name, and He calls us by that name. He seeks the person because He is a person. He seeks our heart because He has one. He seeks our mind because He possesses a soul. He does not see us as mere cogs in the machinery of the world. On the contrary, it is precisely those who lack utility that He values.”
This reflection by Joseph Ratzinger prompts us to contemplate the impact of AI advancement on the marginalized, the downtrodden, and the forsaken. As AI integration progresses towards inevitability, Ratzinger concludes his discourse on “God Has Titles” by invoking the words of St. John of God, a prophetic figure.
“And it grieves me deeply to witness many of my sisters in poverty and my brothers suffering beyond their endurance due to various afflictions, and I am powerless to alleviate their plight. Yet Christ, who knows my soul, has my trust.”
The theologian who captured the hearts of the faithful during his active and retired tenure as the universal Church’s shepherd recognized the encroaching tide of relativism. In the face of this challenge, he redirects our focus from quantification to personalization, emphasizing the significance of the person of Jesus Christ, the name of God.
