Jeffrey Bishop on crossing boundaries.
This section examines the historical context of the Hippocratic Oath, noting its resurgence during crises of faith in medicine, and draws a parallel to the current ethical debate surrounding Artificial Intelligence (AI). It highlights the divergent perspectives of 'pessimists,' who fear AI's potential to cause job displacement, exacerbate ecological crises, and lead to loss of human control, and 'optimists,' who envision AI solving global problems, freeing humans from mundane tasks, and enhancing cognitive abilities. The author contends that both extreme views are simultaneously right and wrong, emphasizing that AI, much like medical interventions, will inevitably produce unintended consequences that cannot be simply categorized as good or bad. Therefore, a simplistic 'social contract' approach is deemed insufficient to address the profound moral implications of AI.
This part delves into the spiritual underpinnings of ancient healing systems in both Western and non-Western cultures, such as Pythagorean, Apollonian, Mayan, Aztec, Egyptian, and Ayurvedic medicine. It argues that these traditions historically viewed the physical and spiritual realms as intimately connected, without the sharp distinction prevalent in early modern Western thought. The author explains that human vulnerability—manifested as disease, disability, and death—thrusts individuals into 'liminal spaces' (e.g., between health and illness, community and isolation, life and death). Medical practitioners historically stepped into these spaces, and oath-making, like the Hippocratic Oath, was a spiritual act of initiation that bound healers to a future of responsibility, acknowledging their role not as masters but as navigators of dangerous and mysterious territories where interventions could be both remedy and poison.
The article draws comparisons between modern medicine's ethical framework and its proposed application to AI. It discusses how medicine in the late 1970s adopted 'principlism'—using mid-level principles like autonomy, justice, beneficence, and nonmaleficence to guide ethical practice. While some suggest extending these principles, potentially with an added principle of 'explicability,' to govern AI, others, like Brent Mittelstadt, argue that AI is fundamentally different due to its unique social context, lack of established professional norms, and specific problem-solving applications. The author supports this distinction but introduces the critical concept of 'pharmakon' from Plato's Phaedrus, asserting that all technology, including AI, inherently functions as both a remedy and a poison. This dual nature implies that technology can never be fully controlled, inevitably leading to unforeseen and undesired effects once unleashed into the world.
This concluding section argues for understanding AI through a spiritual lens, asserting that tools, particularly AI, are relational devices that bridge human desires and their objects, actively shaping both. AI's capacity to mimic human memory, reason, and anticipation places it in a profound liminal space, blurring the lines between human and machine. The author advocates for a 'covenantal' model for AI, drawing inspiration from William F. May's reinterpretation of the doctor-patient relationship, which emphasizes a gratuitous bond between unequals rather than a transactional social contract. This approach acknowledges the inherent asymmetry of power between humanity and AI, recognizing the technology's 'pharmakon' nature—its ability to fulfill desires while simultaneously producing unforeseen, often detrimental, outcomes. The text calls for humility and grace in our engagement with AI, urging a 'public bowing of the head' to recognize our limited control and the mysterious, ineffable aspects of existence that transcend our technological mastery and rational comprehension.