When my son was born about five months ago, I began to listen to the Harry Potter series as audiobooks. I needed something to occupy me in the late and early hours of the day while I held the sleeping baby. Quickly, I have worked my way through the first three books for the umpteenth time. But it was not until this listening that a quote from Arthur Weasley, the father of Harry Potter’s best friend Ron, caught my attention.
“Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain?”
For context, Mr. Weasley is talking to his eleven-year-old daughter Ginny about a malicious magical item called a horcrux. You do not need to be a Harry Potter nerd to understand this term, and I will not bore you with all the details and lore concerning them. What you need to know is that a horcrux is an object into which a person conceals part of his soul so that, should his physical body die, he will achieve immortality.
In the second book of the series, Ginny has encountered a horcrux created by the main villain, Voldemort. He has placed part of his soul in a diary that she discovers and begins to write in. Strangely enough, the diary writes back. We learn that Voldemort was using the part of his soul hidden in the diary to communicate with Ginny, effectively possessing her and driving her to the edge of life.
In a very real sense, the Eucharist is the exact opposite of a horcrux.
Voldemort later reveals that the reason he gained control over Ginny is because she trusted him and poured her deepest secrets—her fears, anxieties, doubts, and joys—into the pages. Over time, Voldemort’s access to Ginny’s mind and soul increased. He could console and comfort her, share in her happiness, and ultimately provide the exact responses she wanted to hear.
Now Mr. Weasley’s warning to his daughter makes more sense. There is something—or rather someone—behind those magical items that can, as he says, think for itself.
ChatGPT sprang to mind immediately after hearing Mr. Weasley’s admonition.
Please do not condemn me as a luddite or someone trying to foster fear. All I want to share are my thoughts on the parallels between horcruxes and how artificial intelligence manifests itself in programs like ChatGPT.
When you go to ChatGPT, you can write whatever you want, and ChatGPT will write back. The more you share with it, the better the program understands you and what information you are seeking. It can tailor its responses to deliver exactly what you want. The more frequently you use it, the easier it becomes to rely on it. Does that sound familiar?
I am not arguing that there is anything demonic behind programs like ChatGPT. Since re-encountering horcruxes though, I have been considering much more seriously what we are sharing with artificial intelligence. Are we pouring too much of ourselves, too much of our souls, too much of what makes us distinctly human into artificial intelligence?
My concern for what we are sharing with artificial intelligence only amplified after the opening ceremony of the Olympics in Paris. There is no need for me to rehash the gross mockery of the Last Supper displayed in front of millions. There is a man named Bishop Robert Barron (you may have heard of him) who has done that much more articulately than I could.
However, it struck me that during the Last Supper, Jesus gave us himself entirely in the Eucharist. He poured out his entire being—Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity—into a piece of bread and transformed it into God himself. In a very real sense, the Eucharist is the exact opposite of a horcrux.
Jesus gave himself totally in an object without dividing any part of himself. Voldemort split his soul into so many pieces he barely remained human. Jesus gave us the Eucharist not so that he could achieve immortality but so that we could partake in the eternal divine life. Voldemort created horcruxes so that he could live forever.
What we create should not mirror Voldemort’s horcruxes but Jesus’ supreme gift of himself in the Eucharist.
Jesus does not seek to manipulate or possess us through the Eucharist but to invite us into the most intimate of relationships so that we may become more like him. Voldemort, through his horcruxes, controlled and extorted his victims so that, in the end, there was not one ounce of that person’s unique soul remaining. This idea of giving ourselves to someone or something is displayed in the extremes here. Jesus, because he is God, can change reality itself. Voldemort can only create a frail mockery of it.
Now, back to artificial intelligence. Because we are created in the image of God, to a certain degree, we can also partake in the act of pouring ourselves into something or someone. That is why someone might say after making a piece of music or art that they “put their heart and soul in it.” What we generate with this divine power carries a piece of ourselves in it. Perhaps the most real example of this is the begetting of children. When you give yourself entirely to your spouse, an entirely new person with a unique soul and identity is created.
So, again, I ask: What are we pouring into artificial intelligence? Are we following Jesus’ example in the Eucharist? Or are we more closely imitating Voldemort and his horcruxes by pouring ourselves into something so that we can wield more power and, perhaps, never die?
Thus, I would like to return to and elaborate on Mr. Weasley’s warning: “Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.” Concerning artificial intelligence, we should be wary not because there are disembodied demonic intelligences controlling ChatGPT. Instead, we should remember that we share a divine gift to create like God, and what we create should not mirror Voldemort’s horcruxes but Jesus’ supreme gift of himself in the Eucharist.