The Bible talks about metallurgy a surprising amount. Just one chapter after the Fall of humanity and the first murder of the race, Genesis finds an opportunity to tells us about Tubal-cain, “the forger of all instruments of bronze and iron.” From there, descriptions of the elemental makeup of tools and sculptures make their way into the text, and they represent a powerful force in the lives of the Israelites.
It cannot be overstated the importance of metal-working technology in the ancient world. Alloying and smithing represent the apex of technological achievement, often compared to the pivotal nature of computers or the destructive capabilities of automatic weapons. With this analogy, it becomes clear the fear that any civilization would experience when their enemy has machine guns and they’re still using muskets.
This very fear gripped Israel in its earliest generations as the nations around them surged in power, particularly their nearest foes, the Philistines.
In the biblical narrative, the Philistines represent a mysterious and dangerous enemy to the Hebrew people. Their forbearers were first seen centuries ago by the patriarch Abraham but forgotten until their serendipitous arrival on the beach of the Promised Land in the same years that the Israelites marched across the Jordan. Their origins were unknown—possibly Greek or Cretan—but in their boats they brought with them the secrets of advanced weaponry and a warrior spirit. They became permanent rivals for Israel, a thorn in their side for hundreds of years.
The greatest advancement of these sea folk was their ability to make iron weaponry. Iron weapons required only one resource whereas the previously dominant metal in the ancient world, bronze, required two (tin and copper). The difficulty of trade in that world made bronze weaponry exceptionally expensive. Beyond its availability, iron also offered a more durable metal—tools and swords were less likely to shatter on impact as bronze might, but would rather dent or bend, able to be fixed later.
The Philistine ability to make iron weapons—a complex and difficult skill—undoubtedly loomed over the Israelite people, casting a shadow of anxiety and existential dread. The knowledge that your nearest enemies possess secret ways to murder you on the battlefield weighs on the human spirit. You cannot escape the immanent fear that your foe is stronger than you, maybe smarter than you, possibly braver than you.
Many computer scientists believe that artificial intelligence is a threshold event. Unlike evolutionary intelligence, where one positive increment in the animal mind may be indistinguishable from the previous, for computers there will be one moment where they are complex machines but nothing more and the next where they are cognizant.
Compounded with this belief is the nature of software development, that anyone and everyone can build upon what has come before. So despite any efforts on the part of the people or of the government, it is inevitable that artificial intelligence will emerge. Even if MIT or the United Nations decided that the intelligence threshold should not be crossed, or safeguards need to be in place, all it takes is one individual in one corner of the globe to release the mechanical power of artificial intelligence.
At that point, it is hard to imagine a win-win scenario. A sentient computer would be so far above human intelligence as to be comparable to an adult and ants, the latter of which is so far beneath us that we step on them without even considering malice. Perhaps we would be fortunate enough that the computers would not need to encroach on the physical world.
For those more concerned with the immediate, the true danger of artificial intelligence is in its unprecedented ability to decimate the job market. Unlike previous technological advancements, AI threatens to take jobs without replacing them. This is not only because of the speed with which software can be deployed, causing whole generations to lose work before a replacement career naturally arises, but also because computers will be so advanced that the number of tasks that a human can do better than a machine will diminish into a mere handful.
But artificial intelligence and the power of computers is intangible. It’s not like the smoke we see billowing from factories, the smog we smell ejecting from cars, the garbage we see littering the median, the bland fruit we taste from the grocery store, or the constant noise we hear coming off the street, even in the privacy of our own home. The modern world, in favor of efficiency, convenient transportation, itemized goods, endless choice, has debased nature. Though technological advancement in the last two centuries has generated incalculable good, it has done immeasurable damage to the created world. For many, further advancement is the solution. Nuclear power, renewable energy, sophisticated waste management—these all could curb the destructive tendencies of modernity, but will they be in time?
Nothing is more immediate to the human experience than the invasion of artificiality into the body. A growing number of thinkers are concerning themselves with the subject of transhumanism, the desire to alter and make better the human body. This topic is hardly the stuff os science-fiction, already affecting our present (and past) with the debate over Oscar Pistorius and the use of prosthetics in sports. In the near future, other instances of transhumanism will become relevant, such as synthetic blood to make humans stronger, genetic editing to keep our children from disease, and brain implants to allow increased attention and information processing. Some see transhumanism as the gateway to a new species of “post-humans,” immortal and even god-like.
An existential fear of what the future will bring is not new. Yet the Christian concept of history is not circular, but linear. It does not guarantee that there will continue to be nothing new under the sun, that history and trends will simply repeat themselves. Rather, there is the real possibility of change and new, unprecedented transformations to our way of life.
Christians must ready themselves to address each issue as it nears and eventually arrives. We cannot afford to hide our heads in the sand, and pretend as if these changes may never happen—though we may be right; we must wrestle with the possibility of another sentience on this planet, one man-made even. How will protect the vulnerable and disenfranchised when utopia has not yet been achieved but computers have replaced all sense of worth. When the rich have the privilege of altering their children to make them something beyond human, what will we say? Do we relish in the advancement of human ingenuity, embracing the mandate of Genesis 3 to remove the curse? Or do we proclaim that the divine vision of humanity is unique, limited as Babel despite its ability.
There are Philistines about. We ourselves may be them. And our fears and anxieties are real. But so are the questions that must be answered. With every day, my attitude towards technology changes. Somedays the humanist in me rejoices; other days, the immensity of the future frightens me. But I am consistently sure that the Christian vision of the world has something to say on such subjects, and we must not neglect to do so.
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