Are We Free to Resist AI?

Two news stories have recently become tangled up in my mind:

One: The rapid advance of AI technology.

The other: A 5,000-mile-long blob of seaweed on track to collide with the coast of Florida. 

Connecting these two seemingly unconnected items is a sense of resignation. AI is here and it is going to change the world in ways that are frightening and difficult to predict, and it is as useless to protest its advent as trying to stop a 5,000-mile-long blob of seaweed.  

This is not unique to AI. The society-wide adoption of new technologies is often regarded as an inevitability. Technology happens to us, without a thorough public discussion, without asking ourselves whether or not we need or want it, and without a sense of choice.

There is, however, at least one group of people who will not be struck by the seaweed: Haredi Jews. 

Walking into Mea Shearim, Jerusalem’s famed ultra-Orthodox neighborhood, one sees signs asking visitors to keep their smartphones hidden away in their pockets or purses. The community has no interest in such devices and are forbidden by their rabbis from using them.

Non-Orthodox Jews tend to have a mocking or even a pitying attitude towards the strictures of the Haredim. We like to imagine that we lead a more liberated and autonomous life than they do. The truth, however, is that they are far freer than we are when it comes to technology.

Yes, they are forbidden by their rabbis from owning smartphones, but at least they know and trust their rabbis. Our freedom, on the other hand, is curtailed by a host of shadowy tech workers and intangible social pressures which leave us feeling hopelessly enthralled to the narcotic glow of the computers in our pockets. 

While we tend to associate freedom with individualism, when it comes to freedom from technology, an individual is a sitting duck for market forces, manipulative algorithms, and society-wide social pressures. 

Communities, especially those that follow some kind of communal code of law, get to choose what technology they adopt and how they adopt it. 

We see this with the Amish, who, contrary to popular belief, actually do use technology, but in a way that aligns with their communal values. We see this with Haredi Jews in Mea Shearim, who eschew smartphones. We see this with non-Orthodox Jews like myself, who have smartphones and laptops, but don’t use them on Shabbat. 

This is not to minimize the importance of individual freedom. There is a reason why I am not Haredi. A balance must exist, and the best communities are those where each individual’s concerns are heard and needs are met. 

Still, we live in a shared world and therefore we must give some of our personal freedom away. The question, then, is whether we give it away consciously, or have it snatched from us by corporations.

We have entered the month of Nissan. Pesach is coming, and the theme of Pesach is freedom. But Pesach lives in dialogue with Shavuot — the holiday that celebrates the receiving of the Torah. 

We have entered the month of Nissan. Pesach is coming, and the theme of Pesach is freedom. But Pesach lives in dialogue with Shavuot — the holiday that celebrates the receiving of the Torah. The message is this: untethered by intentional communal norms and laws, the free individual will find himself enslaved to whatever new and shiny idol pops out of the fire.

Artificial Intelligence is a tool created by humans for humans. There is nothing inevitable about it. We are the ones who should determine what areas of life it may enter into and in which ways. 

That said, in our culture of radical individualism, each man and woman finds themselves standing on the shore of Florida, facing down the blob on their own.   

It is sure to crash into us, entangling us in slimy, green, tentacular tendrils. It will solve problems that we never really thought were problems and create troubles that we’d rather live without. It is likely that it will contribute meaningfully to the sense that technology has dominated our lives and our society without our consent.

At the very least, I know that I — as a member of a strong community —will get a break on Shabbat. 

As for the rest of the week, I can always go visit Mea Shearim.

Matthew Schultz is the author of the essay collection “What Came Before” (2020). He is a rabbinical student at Hebrew College in Newton, Massachusetts.