AI and the Desecration of Time

'Where Then Are You Going?' On Creation, Convenience, and Consequence

Does God hear the prayer of a machine?

Because it sounds so sincere.

I think this and sit in genuine disbelief, because this is such an absurd conversation to be had that I fear the truth of it will never truly settle in me. I have been unable to process how quickly the world has changed, and the fact that it won’t slow down for my eulogies of what once was and never will be again. Like the rest of humanity, I am forced to accept a new world, whether I like it or not, where men and machines are morphing into a new creature before our eyes.

Is that not a sign of the times? What else could be? When creation stops looking like creation, and when creation has convinced itself that it’s the master creator, how else shall the ultimate approach us? Is this reality not the ring of the hour approaching?

The holiness of time and its intrinsically divine place in our being is difficult to encapsulate within the limits of language, precisely because of its magnitude. And yet, in a moment, what we know now as artificial intelligence has stolen it from us. The sacred and profane are not even in a battle any longer, it seems, as one side wears an armor I fear is untouchable.

I write this as I reflect upon the new phenomenon of AI-generated ‘art’ and writing. The act of learning is an inherently holy one. Yet now that too has been reduced to something attainable too easily and too quickly. There is no page skimming, no effort, no exertion. The mental, emotional, spiritual, and even physical processes we used to have to engage with to learn are now gone, and so too is the authenticity of our learning experience. Nothing can truly ever be the same, and I acknowledge, of course, that there are hopeful and beautiful angles to this as well. I mean not to stretch my cynicism over the truth of potential glory, but only to highlight the nuance.

Late last year, I attended an AI fair at the Qatar Science and Technology Park. It was an exhibition of AI startups and ventures from across the world, devoted to enhancing the quality of life for average people. The nobility of each intention is to be praised, as that is how God will judge us. But the tsunami this has given rise to, sweeping over the Earth and leaving nothing unsoaked by its waters, has left us with damage that makes me consider:

Who are we, and what do we do now that there’s no going back? We have numbed and dumbed ourselves. We are machines worshipping other, more evil machines. Where is the sacred? All we have left is a blue sky losing all its color. Trees we need to breathe are being cut down every day… and not for paper — that’s been replaced!

Every time we put a query into ChatGPT, a data center strips already water-scarce areas of necessary energy. When we think about the idea of there being “no ethical consumption under capitalism,” this brings us to a much longer and deeper conversation about the reality of big tech companies and the impact their AI revolution has on the world and the environment. Beyond getting into the complexities of such a discussion, I reflect on the simplicity of how our everyday observances have, seemingly in an instant, changed. I am increasingly swept by an internal devastation upon reading things these days. So many things have been generated by AI that — forgive me for a dramatic and potentially unkind tone, but it must be said — I see those words as mere shapes on a screen, hollowed out from their essence. And I suppose it’s like a good fake designer bag, the ones that even the brand themselves can’t authenticate — you’ll say, who cares, right? It fulfills its function, it holds your weight, and gets you (albeit ridiculously) the praise you so desperately desire. There could be a beautiful and thought-provoking piece, and maybe you’d never be able to tell or question if it was indeed written by a machine. Then, where does this argument go? I speak only of the sadness that we have this conversation at all.

There is something to be said about the cold, brief name of our culprit, too. AI. So short, and simple, yet guilty of forcing upon us a question we shall eternally consider - if things are ‘real’ - if they were made by man or machine. There is something unspeakably sacred about the physical, mental, and spiritual energy required to produce something of substance. AI has desecrated that holiness, blurring the lines of something glorious and something profane, and this acknowledgement resurrects the melancholy within me reserved for being an observer of war and this world’s many tragedies.

AI will never replicate art or poetry or any creation in its most sacred form, precisely because it will be missing the holiness of a human hand molding it. Not a hand typing away, but one truly connected through its blood and bone to the mind and spirit that cultivates its creation. One could argue that rather than stealing time from us, it is the exact opposite — the convenience of AI and its mastery saves or gifts us time. This is objectively true in certain regards. I, however, refer to the idea that time spent doing something, especially something as intrinsically natural to us and our humanity as learning, is a unique type of time spent. It is what we were born to do, how we have been meant to pass the minutes and hours. Now that’s been reduced and altered forever. I am no technophobe, or even entirely a cynic. I like to look at everything optimistically with faith that advancements will hopefully help us establish peace, not wage war, naïve as that may make me. But there comes a time when such optimism drifts into foolery. I speak as someone who acknowledges, too, that the world is moving at a pace it never quite has before, and you better catch up before it catches you. I know of the beauties it can and shall bring with advancements rooted in ethical pursuits and pure intentions. But I fear the damage it’s already done is too weighty, and the truth of what it will continue to produce only sinks us deeper into a sea of inevitable darkness.

This is a deeply complex topic with much to be said on it, but my focus here is on the erosion of effort as a virtue in our lives. It reminds me of one of my favorite verses in the Quran: “Man can only have what he strives for.” You will only receive what you put effort into. I feel compelled to reiterate that, of course, I know the usage of AI does not mean one has become a slave to it. The intelligent user will, on the contrary, master it in a way that still honors and perhaps even enhances their natural intellect. At the same time, which is the scenario I truly reflect upon, we see university students submitting essays completely drafted by their little machine. I’ve just come across a tweet about a professor caught using AI to grade papers. Where is the virtue, then, of the institutions they’re meant to uphold? As someone who comes from a long line of professors and scholars, I have been raised with the belief that the most blessed way one can dance with time is through learning. Seeking knowledge and the time that requires has always been understood to be nothing short of beautiful. Recently, I attended a dinner, coincidentally hosted in a beautiful university library, where the great scholar Dr. Khaled Abou el Fadl remarked that “the pursuit of knowledge is always sacred, no matter where it leads us.”

In particular, the usage of the word pursuit is what I speak of here. When we are told to “Seek knowledge from the cradle to the grave,” and to “Seek knowledge even if you must go as far as China,” God reminds us of the holiness of the nature of learning and all that it entails.

So then wouldn’t the accessibility that AI tools offer be revolutionary, a blessing, as they allow the layman to embark on this pursuit in a way he previously may not have been able to?

No. Because the learning he will participate in thereafter operates within a different mindset.

Not to mention the obvious and complete loss of integrity of any such production; the more we rely on these machines, the less our brains work as designed. The ever-adapting architecture of our minds is what sets us apart as human beings. Man was never made for the risk of having this fundamental truth so blatantly overthrown by deferring its very purpose elsewhere. When we actively choose to damage our mental and intellectual growth in this manner, so too do we disrupt our spiritual health. Our connection to the Creator is at once demoted, because we have failed to give our intellect the respect it is owed.

It is an illusion of sorts: you’ve convinced yourself you’re preserving and expanding the intellect. In reality, you’ve been taking a placebo pill this whole time, your condition deteriorating day by day, until you lose function completely.

God asks us in the Quran: “Where then are you going?”

I wonder, too.

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Artwork by James Christensen

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