Scott Hurd

"As people of faith, we have an opportunity to push back and offer a compelling vision of the complex and beautiful creatures that we are," writes Scott Hurd. "And it can start with how we refer to ourselves."

Some insist that what's simulated by tech is just as real as anything in the physical world. If true, what implications does that have for the Eucharist?

I'm often deeply distressed by AI's threats. And that's when I need to remember that we're still celebrating a Jubilee Year of Hope. Because I need to hold fast to the anchor of hope when I'm unsettled about AI.

The introduction of AI generated actress Tilly Norwood and the revelation that Pope Leo XIV was offered his own digital avatar have sparked a firestorm of backlash around the world against the replacement human beings.

The "godfather of AI" says that as AI threatens to wipe out humanity, we need to build into it "maternal instincts" so "they really care about people."

Use of popular AI "companions" pose dangers and risks for children and teens. But tech ethicists, child development experts and recent church pronouncements offer helpful guideposts for concerned parents and guardians. 

The church's call for workers' rights in the wake of the first industrial revolution was too little, too late for many workers. In the face of a new industrial revolution sparked by AI, there's no time to waste.

More than 800 million people use ChatGPT each week. But Catholics might wish to think carefully before they do — for a number of reasons, including theft, cognitive decline, and threats to jobs and the planet.

Without question, the dignity of people needs to be safeguarded, both within and without the "sphere of sexuality." But if robots can be conscious, what about their dignity?

The ancient teaching of the Council of Nicaea, held 1,700 years ago this May, affirmed that Jesus is fully God and fully human, a direct rebuke to Silicon Valley techs who are pursuing immortality through science. 

The timing of Pope Francis' appeal to those "bombarded by technology" couldn't have been better. Because it's increasingly easy to imagine that robots can have hearts like ours.

If, like me, you're worried about the increasing environmental threats from use of artificial intelligence, I have a proposal: Let's give up needless and frivolous AI for the 40 days of Lent.

Is there an approach to forgiveness that honors human agency, requires neither apologies nor reconciliation, needn't be earned or deserved, and isn't a "get out of jail free" card or a concession to undue pressure?

 New technologies are making people feel overlooked. This has undermined social cohesion and created a "depersonalization crisis" in which workers feel unseen, leading to burnout and despair. 

Should we rejoice at the potential of emerging neurotechnologies? Or should we fear technologies that "shamelessly peer into every detail of (our) lives" as "a dark side of digital progress"? 

Advances in technology and AI raise fundamental questions: When do assistive technologies cross a line and become something else? What does this imply about human nature, human dignity and being created in God's image?

 Pope Francis' Laudato Si' offers a prophetic perspective on the "technocratic paradigm" and timely prescriptions on how to move forward, both for tech titans and ordinary tech users — and AI doomers like me.  

Vatican II insisted that the church shares our age's "griefs and anxieties." When it comes to generative artificial intelligence, I have plenty of both. I've been finding solace and encouragement in Laudato Si'.