This month our lead article is David Gibney’s thought provoking review of a recent collection of essays by Oxford affiliated academics on the topic of AI: AI Morality. Two of the essays in particular, those by Daniel Susskind and John Tasioulas, explore the link between the revolutionary new technology of AI and the very meaning of human work itself.
Tasioulas muses whether “the post-work utopia will be one in which we are primarily occupied in playing games”. However a deep misunderstanding of work seems to underlie this very question. To presume that a world free of work must be in some way a utopia seems to be founded on Adam Smith’s characterisation of work as “toil and trouble” as quoted – not approvingly – by Daniel Susskind. The traditional Christian understanding of work is inspired to a large degree by the Genesis account of the origin of work: The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it (Gen.2:15). The “toil and trouble” dimension of work only appears later; sweat only makes it appearance after the Fall: In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return (Gen 3:19). Rather than being utopian, a work-free world devoted only to play would more likely be dystopian.
In some way a certain amount of the fear surround the advent of AI is inevitable. In the (ever so slightly trite) words of AI itself:
The fear of artificial intelligence mirrors historical anxieties surrounding groundbreaking inventions like the steam engine, electricity, and the internet. Each technological leap prompted concerns about job displacement, loss of control, and societal change. For example, the Industrial Revolution sparked fears of unemployment as machines took over manual labor. Similarly, the rise of electricity led to fears about safety and dependency. Today, AI evokes apprehension about privacy, decision-making, and the potential for unforeseen consequences. Just as societies adapted to past innovations, the challenge remains to harness AI’s potential while addressing ethical, social, and economic implications, promoting responsible development and deployment.
All tools serve to extend the effectiveness of human work. In fact it is hard to think of any work we do without the assistance of one tool or other. And the tool will be good or bad depending on the hands which wield it. Sacred Scripture’s first murder was carried out with a tool – the jaw of an ox – at least according to seventh century glosses on the Genesis account of Cain’s murder of Abel. As for the Greeks, what is perhaps man’s greatest tool was something the gods on Mount Olympus jealously reserved solely for themselves: fire. And Prometheus, who kindly stole this tool for human use, receives a punishment equal to his crime: being chained to a pillar on Mount Caucasus, where an eagle pecked at his liver every day. Prometheus, being immortal, was unfortunately for him gifted with an immortal liver which regenerated each night, leading to eternal agony.
Gibney quotes Tasioulas as saying of AI: “There has never been a technology that has the potential to replace human work activities on anything like a comparable scale”. However this seems like hyperbole. Perhaps it was rather the most “primitive” inventions which most revolutionised human work: the likes of the axe, the plough, and the use of fire. Each one of these tools transformed human work immeasurably, multiplying the efficacy of the human user and making redundant much of the drudgery of work. AI joins the incredibly long list of the ingenious tools fashioned by man to “till and keep” the garden entrusted to us by God. Whether to use the tool to plough a furrow in the ground to plant crops, or to plough a furrow in a poor unfortunate brother’s head is completely in the hands and heart of the wielder. Please don’t blame the tools.