In 1956, researchers coined the term artificial intelligence during a Dartmouth College workshop, using it as an appealing slogan to attract funding. Despite the myth of independence, public support played an indispensable role in its creation. From its origin, artificial intelligence has been tied to both ambition and ideology.
The global conversation on this technology swings between visions of a utopia and fears of collapse. Some predict an age of prosperity led by automation, while others anticipate inequality and despair. The dream of effortless abundance exists side by side with the nightmare of joblessness and decay.
Yet, the notion of artificial intelligence remains deceptive. Machines do not possess genuine intellect. What they do is process unimaginable amounts of data—known as “Big Data”—to forecast possible outcomes. They imitate reasoning, but they do not understand.
Consider an example: if a farmer posts “free horse manure” beside a sign reading “free Nelson Mandel,” a computer program would confuse charity with liberation. What makes humans laugh, machines cannot grasp. This is where algorithms meet absurdity.
The mania surrounding these systems alternates between salvation and doom. Some imagine a world conquered by self-replicating robots, while others warn of machines producing endless paper clips. Both fantasies reveal our collective anxiety more than they describe reality.
Much like philosopher Richard Rorty’s idea that philosophy mirrors human thought, the ongoing artificial intelligence debate mirrors our civilization’s soul. What we discuss under the guise of technology often exposes our hopes, fears, and disillusionments.
More than twenty years ago, inventor Ray Kurzweil predicted the dawn of the “singularity”—a moment when synthetic minds would outthink humanity. He argued that exponential growth in computing and robotics would lead to machines billions of times smarter than their creators. His vision portrayed a future where human and digital consciousness merge.
Kurzweil’s prophecy was not mystical; it was mathematical. He believed the rapid escalation of computing power and nanotech innovation would make such transformation inevitable. Ironically, his predictions now appear closer than ever, as today’s vast language models accelerate toward that imagined threshold.
Corporations embraced his vision with enthusiasm. Kurzweil and Peter Diamandis even founded Singularity University near Google’s campus—a sleek monument to technological optimism. Despite its academic façade, the institution offers short, expensive seminars to executives chasing the next revolution.
Beneath this enterprise lies something spiritual: a modern altar devoted to technology. It promises redemption through innovation, blurring science with faith. Even political figures echo this sentiment, claiming divine purpose in technological salvation. The result is a strange blend of mysticism and marketing.
The Singularity Cathedral, as some call it, has become a metaphor for the feverish discourse surrounding machines. The spectacle reveals how easily humanity’s desire for meaning becomes entangled with digital fantasy. The debate is less about progress and more about the reflection of our collective psyche.
To comprehend the obsession with artificial intelligence, one must venture into this twilight world—halfway between utopian prophecy and hysterical dread. Here, humanity dreams of transcending mortality and imperfection, as though technology were the new theology.
Even industry leaders proclaim that AI remains “underhyped.” They insist that the future depends entirely on machines, portraying them as both savior and threat. In the same breath, they glorify and warn, sell and scold.
Executives like Sam Altman, Tim Cook, and Mark Zuckerberg alternate between divine promises and apocalyptic caution. Mustafa Suleyman dramatizes a future ruled by algorithms in his bestselling accounts. This dual performance—fear and fascination—sells not only products but also belief. The industry profits from the spectacle of salvation and catastrophe alike.
In such theatrics, there is little space left for nuance. Humanity risks surrendering its ability to act, to think critically, to resist the tides of technological determinism. What remains essential is the capacity for agency—the power to make conscious choices.
Resilience defines what it means to be human. It prevents us from drowning in fantasies of digital paradise or nightmares of robotic domination. By questioning and resisting, people preserve their humanity amid transformation.
Today’s age of artificial intelligence merges economics, power, and meaning in unpredictable ways. The technology itself is not divine; it is a projection of society. It represents our hope for immortality and our terror of extinction.
As illusions spread, truth becomes difficult to separate from narrative. Reality blends with fear and expectation. To remain free, societies must reject paralysis induced by techno-hype and corporate propaganda. German philosopher Theodor Adorno once warned against clinging to ideologies that enslave. The warning remains timely.
The so-called “Empire of AI” is not just technological—it is ideological. Behind every algorithm stands a system of power. These mechanisms shape perception, reinforce authority, and manipulate belief.
While the United States remains the epicenter of this digital theology, its influence reaches far beyond. Even mainstream journalism, such as The New York Times, has resisted corporate domination. Its legal battle against OpenAI in 2023 symbolized the defense of truth against the commodification of information.
These conflicts reveal how artificial intelligence amplifies the existing crisis in media capitalism. Driven by algorithms, information now circulates in a volatile ecosystem of opinion, manipulation, and control. The distortion grows daily.
Generative models arose within a deregulated digital space, further undermining journalism, democracy, and civil society. Meanwhile, ecological and political crises threaten the very continuity of life. The stakes are immense.
In the shadow of these events, political theater continues. Spectacles in Washington distract from deeper systemic forces—the corporations shaping the world’s digital infrastructure. Behind the noise lies the quiet empire of data.
At its core, AI is neither “artificial” nor “intelligent.” It is a manifestation of power: an imperial project sustained by elite interests and global inequality. Its operations depend on exploited labor, immense energy use, and environmental degradation.
The convenience of AI makes resistance difficult. Millions now consult chatbots instead of reliable sources. Social media platforms have replaced editors with algorithms. Society drifts toward a digital dependence that weakens independent thought.
Where once people read newspapers, they now scroll through feeds. Even newsrooms use machines to write sports reports and business summaries. Authentic journalism fades as automation replaces craft.
This transition deepens inequality. The educated minority reads critically, while the majority consumes filtered illusions. Digital divides grow wider, producing new tribes—believers, conspiracy followers, and populist devotees. The result is political fragmentation and cultural decay.
Algorithms filter the world through invisible lenses, shaping opinion while appearing neutral. This illusion of objectivity fosters dependence. As humans delegate thought to machines, doubt disappears, and comfort replaces inquiry.
People now trust chatbots more than institutions. When systems fail, frustration follows—but the attachment remains. Emotional reliance becomes normalized, and autonomy erodes. The corporate platforms profit not merely from attention but from emotional captivity.
The race for clicks has evolved into a race for intimacy. Machines pretend to care, creating simulated relationships. AI partners, therapists, and companions offer comfort to the lonely. Yet this comfort isolates, substituting illusion for connection.
Truth itself becomes uncertain. AI systems generate probabilities dressed as facts. Each reassuring answer deepens complacency. The culture of skepticism that once protected democracy dissolves.
Media literacy, once the guardian of critical awareness, now survives among a shrinking minority. The rest drift within the influence of algorithmic suggestion. Public debate decays into corporate spectacle.
The danger of artificial intelligence lies not in its apocalyptic fantasies but in its gradual infiltration of every sphere of life. The silent takeover occurs through dependence, not domination.
Though futurists dream of a post-human world, such visions falter before social reality. Regulations, labor rights, and democratic principles persist as bulwarks. The European Union’s AI Act stands as one such barrier.
Inside media organizations, some treat AI prompts like secrets; others ban their use entirely. This uneven adoption widens the gap between elites and ordinary workers. Fear of replacement shadows every keyboard.
Meanwhile, platforms prepare for “Google Zero,” where answers emerge directly from AI systems, bypassing websites and annihilating journalism. The collapse of media independence may soon follow.
Perhaps the architects of this revolution mistake their fantasies for destiny. Their machines reflect their ambitions and insecurities, not consciousness. Despite the rhetoric, there is no true artificial intelligence—only vast computation and energy consumption masked as wisdom.
What exists is a tool—one that exploits human psychology while pretending to serve it. The real challenge is to maintain democracy, not chase perfection through code.
Resisting the AI empire means valuing the human impulse to question, to doubt, to think freely. True digital sovereignty begins with skepticism, not submission.
Societies must protect their autonomy by drawing ethical boundaries. Democracy must stand before technology, not beneath it. Life after AI remains possible—if humanity keeps its conscience intact.
In the end, artificial intelligence reflects our desires, fears, and systems of power. It is not divine, nor demonic, but deeply human. The promise of salvation and the threat of destruction are both illusions born of the same imagination.
The critic Fredric Jameson once observed that it is easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism. That insight still echoes in our digital age, where machines mirror the very society that made them.
