News feeds in recent months have been full of reports and opinions about the current state of AI (artificial intelligence) and what it means not only for the way we work and live but for the future of the human race. Some of the doom and gloomers are saying AI is throwing the assurance of the gospel ditty, “I know who holds the future,” into doubt.
With all the concern in the air, it was a perfect time for Wilshire’s Jason Woodbury to lead our Epiphany class through a two-week discussion of “Imago Dei in a Digital Age.” Jason brought us up to date on the different types of artificial intelligence and provided a quick history of how humanity’s understanding of our creation “in the image of God” has changed through human history. At the intersection of all that were theories and opinions about the complexity of our relationship with God and with each other and whether AI can rise to that level.
As usual I sat and just listened, but after a weekend that included attending a college football game as well as church, I found myself focusing on a specific piece of the topic: What is AI missing that it can never achieve? I think I found an answer in the shortcomings of a fourth-and-one call on the gridiron.
Over the past five to 10 years, college and pro football teams have become more willing to keep the ball on fourth down and try to gain a first down rather than punt or kick a field goal. Listening to coaches talk about when and why they do it, they explain the decision is made based on analytics that take into account a lot of factors: position on the field, yards to gain, how far in the lead or behind they are, time left on the clock, fourth down attempts against the defending team in this game or in other games. You’ll hear the coaches say, “We looked at our charts and they told us we should go for it” or “not go for it.”
What I’ve never heard any coach talk about are the hidden human factors that might impact athletic performance and skew the analytics. Certainly coaches are aware of the existing, known physical conditions of their players on the field. But they don’t know if a player is competing with a muscle pull, skeletal ache or some other unspecified pain they aren’t reporting because they want to stay in the game.
What’s more, coaches don’t know the extent of the mental, emotional or spiritual baggage an athlete might be carrying onto the field that could impact that athlete’s focus or concentration: worries about a loved one or friend, a concern about their athletic or academic future, something as innocuous as a disappointing date or as consequential as wrestling with the meaning of life. These are things analytics don’t know and don’t account for. In fact, an individual athlete might not even be aware of something potentially impacting their ability to be fully present in the moment unless they are hyper-attentive and self-reflective.
Nuances such as these that add critical layers to our human condition can’t be accounted for by analytics, and they can’t be replicated by AI. It may be that AI can mimic moods like attraction, love, anger and hate, but it can’t predict the events and complex emotions that drive those moods or turn them on and off in the blink of an eye.
AI can’t read our hidden emotions and moods the way we can by watching a person’s eyes, listening for changes in their voice, noticing their posture and gestures or other “tells” we pick up on. That usually only comes with spending large amounts of time with someone in different situations.
Our relationships with each other are complex and are created in the image of God’s relationship with us. Which brings to mind another familiar phrase: “That’s between God and me.” Yes, it is, and AI can never replicate that relationship.
AI may be able to learn certain jobs and sort through data faster than us, but it can never know us as God knows us. It can never replace our relationship with God, and by association, with each other.