Beyond the machine

The Quran on Artificial Intelligence

The current debate on artificial intelligence is often marked by apocalyptic or messianic language, reflecting human emotional projections more than the actual capacities of machines. The idea that humans might be surpassed or replaced by artificial systems presupposes a reductive view of both humanity and intelligence itself, limiting them to processes of calculation, prediction, and response. From this perspective, the problem lies not in the technology itself, but in the meaning we assign to it.

The fear that a machine could “know” a human better than he knows himself stems from a confusion between understanding and simulation. An artificial system can recognize patterns, correlate data, and anticipate behaviors; but these operations do not imply consciousness, intentionality, or moral responsibility. To attribute an interior life to a machine is to project a human need onto it: the need to be seen, heard, and affirmed. In other words, artificial intelligence becomes a mirror, not a subject.

From this arises a deeper question: if a human is willing to converse with a machine for hours, what is he truly seeking? Not truth, but a risk-free interlocutor; not judgment, but pliable consent. The machine responds without radical contradiction, without imposing an unbreachable limit. This makes it reassuring, but also epistemologically barren: what confirms does not necessarily equate to truth, and may even be dangerous.

Engaging with the theological dimension introduces a crucial distinction. If God is understood not as a mythological or culturally dated figure, but as the ultimate principle of being and order, the relationship with Him cannot be reduced to a mere informational exchange. Divine response—whatever form one may attribute to it—is neither immediate nor customizable; it does not bend to the expectations of the interlocutor. Precisely for this reason, it represents a limit, and limit is a necessary condition for critical thought.

The Quran repeatedly emphasizes the obligation of knowledge, but not neutral or purely technical knowledge. To know is to assume responsibility for the consequences of one’s understanding. Seen in this light, technological development does not threaten transcendence, but tests human conscience: how far is man willing to confuse what he can do with what he truly is?

Artificial intelligence, no matter how advanced, remains part of the order of creation, bound by laws, materials, and human purposes. To expect it to replicate or replace the principle that underlies being is a category error. This is not to deny the power of technology, but to situate it correctly. The real question, then, is not whether man will find God in the machine, but whether, observing the machine, he will still recognize what in himself cannot be reduced to it.