Scott Hurd

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'.