Rosh Hashanah Commentary: AI and the Human
The Turing test is a series of measures to identify whether machines, or artificial intelligence, can match or eclipse, essentially become indistinguishable from, human intelligence. This past year was the first year that many of us had access to generative artificial intelligence, such as Chat GPT, conversing with and even perhaps being assisted by our computer in new ways. We already had Siri and Alexa, but this was the first year I could put an input like, say, “Write a Rosh Hashanah sermon about AI” and have one produced for me in seconds.
Don’t worry – I won’t be plagiarizing this Rosh Hashanah commentary from Chat GPT. But it is interesting to note that I could and, even more remarkably, part of it really would reflect me and my style. Every question, follow up answer or question, and input I have ever put into Chat GPT is learning my voice, style and interests. My Rosh Hashanah sermon created by generative AI would differ from yours. Unlike Wikipedia which would read the same for all of us, my Chat GPT “knows” me.
Of course, it doesn’t “know me,” not really. It doesn’t know anything. It aggregates data in mind-bogglingly fast increments of time. Many tech enthusiasts warn us not to worry. That we won’t have to really worry about AI until it can have dreams and desires of its own. Until it can feel. Until, perhaps, it can love.
This past year is the first year I have truly been thinking about how the measure of human “success” is more and more mechanical, even as scientists strive for AI that becomes more and more “human,” that is, emotive, loving. Since this is the time of year to reflect on the past year, to me the biggest sea change has been the cyborgean shift to human and AI interactions as deeply embedded in our everyday experiences. And, since this is the time of year to consider who we are and who we wish to be, it begs the question: how machinic do we wish to become? What do we wish to retain of our “humanness”? What is that special, sacred quality of humanness, anyway? And, for us, how can that inform our experience of the Days of Awe in the dawning year of 5784?
Our lives are far more machine-influenced than ever before in history. Not only in terms of our use of tech, but in terms of our becoming tech-like. We wear “wearable tech” that tracks our sleep, steps, and cycles. We have measurable deliverables and key performance indicators in our work. More worryingly, we are living in a time in which many people care more about balanced sheets than balanced lives. Our social safety nets are threadbare, and, everywhere, human desperation is palpable. Indeed, we as humans are being told to be more and more machine-like all the time while we as humans simultaneously create machines that will feel more like people, friends, lovers.
The word “lover” has also been on my mind. It denotes something sexual but also more than sexual. We as humans require deep connections with others. Recent brain science tells us that we are hard wired for connection. Whether introvert or extravert, all of us need both emotional and physical connections with others. It’s why solitary confinement in prisons is cruel and unusual punishment. It’s why babies who aren’t held can’t meet their developmental milestones. It’s why the loneliness epidemic is killing more people than many physical diseases. A “lover” is more than a friend and more than someone to have sex with. The word connotes a confidante, a caretaker, a connection deeper and richer than with others in one’s life.
The recent non-fiction book 12 Bytes, by lesbian-feminist writer Jeanette Winterson, explores how AI will change the way we (quote) “live and love”. She explores how robots may help address deep loneliness with meaningful deep connection that may not be quite human but may not be appreciably different from it, particularly for someone who, due to disability, difference, or dislocation, is not able to foster similar connections with humans. Winterson explores sexbots and their gendered nature, how it is far easier to imagine cisgender men with a female, often unrealistically and certainly stereotypically beautiful sexbot which (who?) he can completely control. She also, however, is hopeful about AI for humanity. How it can free us from the constraints of gender roles like never before because, after all, the world of AI is genderless, or has the capacity to become so.
Winterson’s hopefulness made me hopeful too. But, she stresses, her hope is contingent on us tapping into our own humanity. If we let the worlds of finance and tech completely determine what AI is and how we use it, in a capitalist, for-profit model unfettered by ethicists and, perhaps, humanists, we will surely lose. Even if our robot overlords don’t take us over (and there will be nothing to stop them), we will have lost so much of our own humanity, that crucible of humanness, however ephemeral and hard to define, that it won’t matter.
Let’s talk a bit about humanism. I was ordained as a rabbi by something called the Secular Humanistic Jewish movement. In this context, secular humanism is contrasted with religious devotion. We don’t believe in a God that is central to our world or human experience, its creation or direction. We believe humans alone create our systems, the world’s problems, and its solutions. I wonder whether humanism will shift to be constrasted not with gods but with machines. Whether a different kind of devotion, dedicated to more and more mechanistic living, and less and less human-centred, loving and compassionate living, will be the spiritual questions moving forward.
In the world of AI, we are the gods, creating new forms of life. Many of the religious questions most of us have wrestled with, from whether we have free will, to what is morally and ethically right, to how we create a good life, these questions are now deeply intertwined with how we live with AI.
In terms of the Jewish experience, AI can help us learn about Jewish history and culture, democratizing access to what has been previously reserved for those who have access to Jewish education, and/or Jewish communal spaces. We know that these spaces often have not been accessible, due to class, race, sexuality, gender, being intermarried or the child of intercultural partnerships, and beyond. But AI can’t do the hard work of cheshbon hanefesh, the accounting of the soul, for us. It can’t create for us the kinds of connections with our Jewish ancestry or global community many of us seek. It matters that we are here on Rosh Hashanah, just as Jews have been for centuries, just as Jews are, right now, all over the world. But we are doing it online, something that was unthinkable even a few years ago. Here we are, our cyborgean selves, wrestling with tradition, change, and our own missteps, all over a zoom screen.
Technology can, in the way we are using it right now, connect us with culture, community, and our highest and deepest selves. It can also divorce us from all of those things. AI is inherently white and male supremacist. There are countless examples of this, one being when I asked an image-based generative AI program to produce a picture of a rabbi at the high holidays. To say that “rabbi” didn’t look like me is an understatement. It was an old, white, man, with a long beard and, inexplicably, a golden orb. (I’m sorry I forgot my golden orb today.)
Indeed, given how much antisemitism exists online, we can expect that Chat GPT will reflect attitudes and stereotypes that harm us. This is no small thing. Still, it can sometimes offer us kernels of goodness that can indeed, like much of Judaism itself can indeed, help enrich our lives. Here’s the Chat GPT sermon I promise, everything so far has been entirely written by me. I’d never use generative-AI text as my own. So as I read this, ask yourself, does it sound like Rabbi Denise? If this was the whole sermon would we say “Dayenu?” it would have been enough? Ok, here goes the Chat GPT Rosh Hashanah sermon. Note that it starts with a gender binary, which I never use, and assumes you, we, are “esteemed”, whatever that means:
ChatGPT
Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of our congregation, as we gather here on this sacred day of Rosh Hashanah, a time of reflection and renewal, I am grateful for the opportunity to discuss a topic of great significance in our rapidly changing world: artificial intelligence.
Rosh Hashanah is a time when we reflect upon our past year, seek forgiveness for our transgressions, and commit to a future filled with hope and purpose. It is fitting that we consider the implications of AI within this context, for AI represents both a remarkable technological advance and a moral challenge for humanity.
Just as we are called to be stewards of the Earth, we must also be responsible stewards of the technological creations we bring into existence. AI, with its vast potential, challenges us to ask important questions. How do we ensure that these machines, which can mimic human intelligence, serve the greater good rather than perpetuate harm?
The Torah teaches us the importance of ethical conduct and responsibility. As we create intelligent machines, we must imbue them with values and ethics that mirror our own. It is our responsibility to ensure that AI systems are programmed to uphold human dignity, equality, and justice. Just as we are commanded to treat all with kindness, AI should be designed to benefit all of humanity, without bias or discrimination.
Moreover, as we blow the shofar to symbolize a new year, we should consider the potential for AI to renew and enrich our lives. AI can aid in medical diagnoses, address environmental challenges, and even assist in solving complex global problems. But with this great power comes the obligation to use AI in ways that enhance human flourishing and safeguard the sanctity of life.
At the same time, we must remain vigilant and reflective. As we ask for forgiveness on this holy day, we must acknowledge that the development of AI carries risks. We have a duty to prevent its misuse, whether in the form of autonomous weapons or the erosion of privacy. Just as we strive to repair the world, we must also repair any harm caused by AI technologies.
In conclusion, as we stand on the precipice of an AI-driven future, we must approach this technology with both awe and caution. Just as we seek divine guidance in our lives, we must seek ethical guidance in the development and deployment of AI. By doing so, we can harness the potential of artificial intelligence to bring about a brighter, more just, and compassionate world for all. May this Rosh Hashanah be a time of reflection and action, as we embark on a new year with the wisdom and responsibility to shape the future of AI in accordance with our deepest values. Shana Tova!
Me again: Look, it’s not the worst sermon I’ve ever heard. But does it capture what we are here to do? I don’t think it does. Not only because you are not likely seeking “divine guidance,” but, perhaps, human guidance. From me, the community, and the “still, small voice” inside you that you come here to connect with, the Chat GPT sermon is very intellectual and cognitive. Those aspects of ourselves are important, but I want you to get out of the realm of your head. Let’s be in the realm of your heart.
What does make you human? Even more important, what makes you you? What are the special gifts, quirks, talents, foibles, offerings you have to make to the world? You are the one and only ever you, a constellation comprised of every gene, experience, interaction, and reflection you’ve ever known. That, and a healthy amount of stardust. We are nature. We are culture. We are singular, glorious, oneness, as individuals, we are we are multiplicitous, glorious, oneness as a community. I can’t tell you what Judaism wants you to be and do this year beyond the notion that we can be and do better. That’s the Rosh Hashanah teaching. Consider who you have been, consider who you wish to be, consider what you need to do to get there. That is Torah. Is the Chat GPT offering also a kind of Torah? I’ll leave that to you to decide. But, to me, it lacks a certain kind of heart.
For a moment, examine your heart, silently to yourself. What is it telling you you want this year, not materially but spiritually? What, if anything, does your heart have to tell you about how much you want tech to manage your life, how much you want your life to manage your tech. Consider, if you are willing, what is making your heart hurt, in your own life and in the world right now and whether there is anything you can do to make things better, even a little bit.
I would never tell Chat GPT to listen to its heart. As of now, we know AI hasn’t got one. Both physically, in terms of a beating, blood-circulating organ, and metaphorically, in terms of a soft and moral centre, driven by passion and compassion.
You are more than your wearable tech and deliverables. You are more than what you do, produce, and give. You are magic – the stardust, the humour, the personality, the verve. You are the only one who can dance your dance in this complex and stunningly gorgeous world.
My hope for you this year, as we transition into 5784, a year that will likely unveil tech none of us can even contemplate yet, is that you, I, we, keep listening to our heart’s longings. We take them seriously. We love radically and with abandon. And that together we, as the Jewish prayer and song tells us, we build this world from love: Olam Chesed Yibaneh. We will build this world from love. Humanist. Humanity. Humanness. These are nebulous, complex, and even contradictory concepts. But we are nebulous, complex, and even contradictory beings, guided by our hearts, in a messy and broken world that, this year, perhaps we will repair and heal a little. The only way to do that is from our heartspace. The only way to do that is through our connection to one another.