Earlier this 12 months, a Spanish TV programme showed several people listening to digital recreations of the voices of their deceased relatives that had been generated by artificial intelligence from real audios. It sparked widespread debate in each public and skilled spheres, as these recreations not only mimicked family members’ voices, but additionally asked poignant, evocative questions, scary intense emotional reactions.
This phenomenon, which has been dubbed “digital resurrection”, involves using advanced AI technology to recreate certain facets of deceased individuals, resembling their voice or physical appearance. While it could offer momentary comfort, such a practice opens a raft of profound debates on ethical, philosophical and legal fronts.
The risk of making false memories
Chief among the many philosophical implications of digital resurrection is that it calls into query what it really means to “be”. By recreating the voice or likeness of somebody who has passed away, we would imagine we’re extending their existence ultimately, or perhaps that we’re simply making a shadow of them, lacking in substance.
However, the essence of a human being is undoubtedly greater than a set of programmed responses or a picture on a screen, and it seems unlikely that a digital simulation can capture the depth and uniqueness of an individual’s lived experience, emotions and thoughts.
Memory plays a vital role here. Digital resurrection could be seen as an try to preserve memory, to take care of the presence of those now we have lost. But human memory will not be static – it selects, changes, shifts and adapts, and by digitally recreating an individual, we run the chance of altering our own authentic memories of them. Is it ethical to carry on to a synthetic representation of somebody, as a substitute of letting the memory of them evolve and transform over time?
True identity
An individual’s identity is a fancy web of experiences and relationships. When we attempt to recreate someone, we would think we are attempting to capture their identity. However, we usually tend to create an idealised version of them, one which conforms to our own expectations and desires.
These technological advances also raise questions on grief itself. Death is a natural a part of life, and mourning is crucial for coming to terms with this loss. By trying to take care of a reference to the deceased through digital resurrection, we interfere with this vital process, which could prevent us from moving forward and finding peace within the acceptance of loss.
Ultimately, digital resurrection also opens serious debate as regards to consent and ownership. Who has the best to choose whether an individual needs to be digitally recreated? And how are you going to handle the consent of somebody who can, for obvious reasons, now not express their wishes?
Exploiting grief for profit
We should keep in mind that technology is a business, and the prospect of corporations making a profit by meddling with something as profoundly human and painful because the lack of a loved one raises further philosophical, ethical and moral questions.
From an ethical standpoint, this sort of business seems to transgress the basic principles of respect and dignity that ought to guide our human interactions. Grieving is an intimate and sacred process, a path to acceptance and inner peace after a major loss. Commercial intrusion into this process could subsequently be seen as a type of emotional exploitation, making the most of people at one of the vulnerable moments of their lives.
Business of this type could also distort the natural grieving process. Grief and loss are essential experiences of the human condition, and coping with them helps us to grow as people. If commercially marketed digital resurrection prevents people from moving through this process in a healthy way – offering an illusion of an individual’s presence slightly than helping to just accept the truth of their absence – it offers little by the use of profit.
From an ethical perspective, the intentions and purposes of such businesses could be questionable. In principle they appear to have the aim of providing comfort and a way of remembering family members. However, where can we draw the road between offering solace and exploiting grief for profit?
Digital resurrection exacerbates grief
At the guts of “digital resurrection” lies a profound and disturbing paradox. In its try to bring us closer to those now we have lost, technology confronts us with the inescapable reality of their absence, leading us to query not only the character of existence, but additionally the essence of what it means to be human.
By attempting to make up for the absence of a loved one or fill the void they’ve left, these technologies deepen each our desire to carry on to what now we have lost, and our own personal struggles to address and process grief within the face of the inescapable reality of death.
The paradox is further prolonged after we consider that, in our effort to preserve the memory and essence of family members, we resort to simulations that, by their artificial nature, can never fully capture the complexity and depth of real human experience. Thus, we’re faced with an imperfect, digitised representation that, while comforting in some ways, struggles to do justice to the true essence of somebody now we have loved and lost.
