Why is Our Relationship with Nature So Broken?

I was walking across the street yesterday, but just before I did, instead of looking up, I checked my iPhone to see about the weather. Instead of looking up, and pondering the sky, instead of taking in what my body could clearly tell me about the temperature, the wind, the humidity, I let my smart phone make me dumber.

The statistics are staggering… about how many times we look at our phones. We check them between 56 and 96 times a day and on the average spend almost 4 hours looking at them, which is roughly 50 days/year.

 

It seems like science and modern technology is breaking our relationship with nature. But it’s not just our smart phones, and honestly it isn’t entirely new. 

Listen to the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. An unusually gifted storyteller, he illustrates the fight between the technology of affluent societies and our ability to “view the stars.” Most philosophers can’t produce really winning parables like this—one that still resonates almost two hundred years after he told it. But Kierkegaard can, and that’s why he’s worth quoting at length. 

When the prosperous man on a dark but starlit night drives comfortably in his carriage and has the lanterns lighted, aye, then he is safe, he fears no difficulty, he carries his light with him and it is not dark close around him; but precisely because he has the lanterns lighted, and has a strong light close to him, precisely for this reason he cannot see the stars, for his lights obscure the starts, which the poor peasant driving without the lights can see gloriously in the dark but starry night. So those deceived ones live in the temporal existence: either, occupied with the necessities of life, they are too busy to avail themselves of the view, or in the prosperity and good days they have—as it were lanterns lighted and close about them—everything is so satisfactory, so pleasant, so comfortable, but the view is lacking, the prospect, the view of the stars.

Somebody Else's Problem (A Musing)

I'm part of a conference at Fuller Theological Seminary this week called,"Techno-Sapiens in a Networked Era: Becoming Digital Neighbors." 

While I'm here I've still pondering a 2015 Pew Research Center survey, "Religion and Science," which discovered this. And I'll bold one sentence to make my point.

People’s sense that there generally is a conflict between religion and science seems to have less to do with their own religious beliefs than it does with their perceptions of other people’s beliefs. Less than one-third of Americans polled in the new survey (30%) say their personal religious beliefs conflict with science, while fully two-thirds (68%) say there is no conflict between their own beliefs and science. Pew Research Center

It’s probably not a surprise that the synopsis for the piece reads: “Highly religious Americans are less likely than others to see conflict between faith and science.”

So whether we are "highly religious" or not, when we look at religion and technology (which, for many today, is relatively synonymous with science), I think some introspection is needed. As we ponder technology--and now I'm speaking to older peeps like me--we love the tech we're familiar with, and fear the newer stuff. The laptop was great, but how about VR (Virtual Reality)? We probably have to take a look at ourselves and ask, "Am I the problem? Is my approach bringing an unnecessary conflict?"

Technology and Christian Mission: A Reflection on Ex Machina

Ava, the AI humanoid robot

The past few days my science and religion class and I have been watching the 2014 film Ex Machina (starring Domhnall Gleeson, Alicia Vikander, and Oscar Isaac). It’s a good rule of thumb that, when topics make their way to film, they’ve become part of our culture’s collective unconscious. I’m reminded of how profound it is, not only for forecasting technology’s arc, but for how we see ourselves. Most pointedly, if the tone of film is our guide, technology, in the character of an Artificial Intelligence humanoid robot that can pass the Turing Test, Ava, brings marked fear.

Why do we fear technology—its presence in our lives and what skulks on the horizon?

Consider the title of the film. Ex Machina. It plays on the old Greek tragedy’s phrase, deus ex machina or “god of the machine.” Apparently, the Greek dramatist Aeschylus coined the term to describe when a machine was operated that lowered actors playing gods onto stage. This could either a crane (a mechane in Greek) from above, or it was a riser that brought actors up through a trapdoor. Today we use deus ex machina more broadly to denote an unrealistically resolved plot.

But here, in Ex Machina,the direction is reversed—the plot isn’t wound back into a cosmic harmony, but descends into anarchy. It is not a comedy—where the initial values of the film’s world are restored—but a tragedy, where (spoiler alert) an anonymous AI robot releases herself into the world with the hint of ensuring chaos. The “god” of the machine—Nathan, the creator of Ava—is destroyed.

Partly this is the fear of Big Data—that Nathan, head of internet search firm Blue Book (read: Google), has taken the mass of data collected through our computers, our iPads, our phones, etc. to create an AI brain. All that information is scary (as I read in a recent review of Ex Machina by Popular Mechanics on the "weaponization of data.")

But what if we learned not just to fear technology, or to weaponize it, but harness it for good and for Christian mission?

I’ve argued elsewhere that we need to paraphrase Jesus’s view of the Sabbath: 

“Technology was made for us, not us for technology.” My contemporary adaptation of Jesus's words in Mark 2:27

In the history of the Christian church, we’ve pioneered the technology of the codex (or the book) instead of the scroll to hold our sacred documents. Try finding John 3:16 on an unwieldy scroll versus a nicely bound book. And Paul used the technology of Roman roads to carry the Gospel throughout the Roman Empire. Moreover—for just one more example—Martin Luther employed the printing press and translation of the Bible into vernacular German to bring the Word back into the hands of the people.

If it sounds like I’m saying that spreading the Gospel through the YouVersion app is part of the mission of the church, and that AI and CRISPR Cas9 gene editing can be used for the good that God has for us, then I’m making my point.

If you also hear me expressing concern that we do very poorly when we’re left to our own devices (as it were), and without prayer, repentance, humility, obedience to Scripture and community discernment, we fail, then this post has been successful.

Do I know exactly what this use of technology for the mission of the church will look like in the coming decades? Absolutely not. As Yogi Berra once opined, 

“It's tough to make predictions, especially about the future.” Yogi Berra

Except, of course, we as God’s people can predict that God will take care of us and that we have the power of the Spirit and the grace of our Savior, even when we make errors in judgment. 

That’s one prediction I’m willing to make.

Peering Into the Horizon of Faith-Science-Technology: Some Questions

This is part two on where we’re headed in the interaction of Christian faith with science and technology. 

There's a particular reason for these reflections. I’m working on a talk for next week that’s giving me a bit of grief. At my own urging (i.e., I have no one else to blame), I’m going to address the recipients of the science-faith grant (STEAM) with the question, 

“Where is this conversation about Christian faith and science—as well as the closely related issue of technology—headed?” 

As I mentioned this question is giving me grief, and I'd like to think it shouldn't. I’ve often thought that I’m the kind of futurist, always seeking to discern what’s on the horizon, what storm is on the way, or what sun is just beginning to peer into my world. But these topics seem honestly opaque to me. So continuing from last week's format, instead of answers, let’s begin with questions. Last post, I addressed scientific topics, but I found in 

one study I directed, SEYA, that 18-30 year olds see technology and science as inextricably linked, even coterminous. I would even say then that this is an emerging trend. 

Technology in general and "the technique": The topic is, to use legal jargon, “overly broad,” and my two chapters in Mere Science and Christian Faith just begin an exploration. Nonetheless, techie toys, like smart phones, social media, laptops, video conferencing, define our world. How is this world something that is still (to quote the hymn) “My Father’s World”? Or is it, in fact the world of another power? The key to all this—certainly in its harmful effects—is what the famed 20th century French sociologist Jacques Ellul named technique: 

Jacques Ellul

“Technique is the totality of methods, rationally arrived at and having absolute  efficiency (for a given stage of development) in every field of human activity.” Jacques Ellul

Is there room for our humanity even in a world that's been over-run not just with technology, but with an obsession with "technique." 

AI and Transhumanism: I have separated this from technology because the promise of technology to create minds like we have (Artificial Intelligence) or at least something works better than Siri. It also brings out the question, if we do create intelligence robots, will they be persons and thus, will they have to pay taxes? (There may even be a few more serious questions than that, but I'll start there."

Do you ever feel, in light of these questions, like these guys?

Growth of the nones: As I’ve mentioned in other places, I grew up in a happy secular Silicon Valley and had minimal religious input before adulthood. So in short I vibe with the nones, with those who mark “none” on surveys that ask, “What is your religious affiliation?” With the increase in scientific and technological thinking, unaffiliation or disaffiliation in churches and other religious communities will increase. It’s already running almost 40% for 18-30 year olds. Is there any way, for those of us who would like the church to exist, to forestall this trend?

There you have. A number of tough questions and pretty much no answers. At least from me at this moment...

How Technology Threatens Spiritual Life

One more excerpt from Mere Science and Christian Faith, now available. 

Check the code to the right for 40% off

(To state what is perhaps obvious, this is ironic)

A drop in religious affiliation and a rise in Internet use seem to be correlated. Why might this be the case? Philosopher Daniel Dennett has surmised that the Internet disrupts religion’s hegemony over the information its adherents receive. 

“Religious institutions, since their founding millennia ago, have managed to keep secrets and to control what their flocks knew about the world, about other religions and about the inner workings of their own religion with relative ease. Today it is next to impossible.” Daniel Dennett (behind paywall)

But that strikes me as somewhat simplistic. Studies also find a strong correlation between empathy and religious belief—that is, believers tend to show higher levels of empathy. Can God make himself known to people despite their technological distractions and decreased empathy? Naturally. At the same time, some studies suggest that the use of technology reduces empathy, and since emerging adults are digital natives and use technology throughout the day, this is a particularly pertinent issue. I’ve been persuaded that we grow in the virtues through practice, and the virtue of empathy is something we must cultivate. Conversely, interacting virtually and not in real relationships numbs our empathy. One can note the division at Facebook specifically created to mitigate against cyberbullying by its one billion plus users. I can affirm that the comments to my blogs can be highly negative—and almost never informed by what I wrote—to a degree that never happens in my public speaking.

In other words, if using technology decreases our empathy, and empathy is correlated with faith, maybe technology decreases our capacity for spiritual life. We need more studies on this, but I can report anecdotally that the college students I teach and the emerging adults that have been part of my ministries seem increasingly anxious, even twitchy. They’re less present to one another and therefore diminished in their ability to care. There seem to be correlations between screens and these behaviors, and while I certainly have my intuitions, more scientific data would be helpful. There’s also the simple issue of how we steward our time: If we play hours of Grand Theft Auto, there’s less time to go to worship services, undertake Bible studies, and take part in service projects.

The Messiness of Community and Thus the Allure of Tech

One more excerpt from Mere Science and Christian Faith, now available. 

Check the code to the right for 40% off

          MIT professor Sherry Turkle defends the messiness of community. (“Messiness,” by

the way, is my word, not hers.) Part of her reasoning is that conversations in real time with real people can’t be manipulated like virtual interactions can be. Turkle describes a manager at HeartTech, a large Silicon Valley software firm, who left engineering for management. 

“I left my previous job because it was too predictable. I wanted to work with unpredictable systems [i.e., people]” (Silicon Valley software manager).

Turkle offers this advice: 

“Challenge a view of the world as apps” (Sherry Turkle)

—the idea that some app on our smartphone will lead us to the solution to all problems. “The app way of thinking starts with the idea that actions in the world will work like algorithms: Certain actions will lead to predictable results” (Reclaiming Conversation, 322-2). But human relationships are unpredictable, chaotic, and complex—that’s what makes them both frustrating and exultant.

This “app thinking” can affect us relationally and spiritually. We think that we can manage people neatly, and if things go awry, we simply shut down that person’s “app” or “doc.” But when we do this, we treat other human beings impersonally—like they’re simply an extension of our smart phone—and this may also alter the way we approach another personal relationship—namely, with God. To take it up a metaphysical notch, our relationship with God is also messy and unpredictable. The eternal, sovereign God of the Bible cannot be managed. To cite Mrs. Beaver as she describes Aslan the Christ figure in the Chronicles of Narnia, 

“He’s wild, you know. Not like a tame lion” (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, 182). 

God is free, untamable, and not manageable by our phone apps. And maybe we are too.