Let us pray
DECEMBER and January each year are the months when the Church is most out of sync with the rest of society. Church services are full of purple cloth, solemn chants, and consideration of the end-time themes of death, judgement, heaven, and hell. Outside the walls of the church, public spaces are full of muzak on repeat — Mariah Carey and the Pogues — tinsel-strewn shopping malls, and invitations to parties.
But, in what some commentators are calling a “bonfire of certainties” in our society — the loss of trust in institutions and leaders, and the sense that many public services are (to use that well-worn phrase) “on their knees” — the apocalyptic themes of Advent are more apparent IRL (in real life) than might at first appear.
Perhaps all of us are “on our knees”, but the questions are: how did we get there, what are we asking for, and what is it that will help us to stand?
Between the (bottom) lines
IF ADVENT is a season in which to consider deep themes and the end times, the failure of the latest COP meeting in Brazil to come up with meaningful plans to reduce the globe’s warming was a disappointment.
But, behind the headlines, the reality is always more complex than the slogan-writers allow. If the political story is one of under-delivery on ambitious targets, the absence of the United States, and the discouraging compromises made in order to get a deal at all, then the economic story might give more reason for hope. World solar costs fell by 12 per cent last year; battery storage costs have fallen by 93 per cent since 2010; and 94 per cent of renewable power built in 2024 was cheaper than the cheapest fossil-fuel alternative.
An inspiring and challenging statistic was that Pakistan has installed 20 times more solar technology in three years than the UK, France, Canada, and New Zealand combined. Global transport electrification is displacing two million barrels of oil a day — more than Germany’s daily oil use. There are solid and defensible economic and social reasons to hope, even if the political weather remains overheated.
World without end
ONE of my perennial Advent meditations is a slogan that I saw on a banner during the Occupy protests of 2010-11 in the City of London. Inverting the apocalyptic claims of the Revelation of St John, the banner read: “The beginning is nigh.” This, for me, captures the spirit of Advent in the world, and fuses the hope and light that Christians celebrate in this season with the bracing truth-telling of the prophets, and a sense that fundamental dislocation is a feature whenever we try to “read the signs of the times”.
With all this in mind, the news this month that AI models were now being deployed to assist in the search for other life-forms in space is not surprising, although simultaneously challenging. AI-powered research has discovered the oldest evidence on planet Earth of photosynthesis, the process by which plants use sunlight to capture atmospheric carbon. Scientists knew that it was in operation by 1.6 billion years ago, but AI models have now discovered that it was all happening at least 800 million years earlier.
Biological molecules have also been discovered in rocks that are 3.3 billion years old. Again, we humans thought that we knew that life existed then, but this is the first concrete evidence that we were right. Now, we have the technology to analyse rocks from other planets to see whether life exists — or existed — there. The beginning of extra-terrestrial communication might be more nigh than we thought.
Human relations
TWO AI experts were asked at a public event recently what a general audience should do to understand more about artificial intelligence — to familiarise themselves, and get on board with the revolution that is coming/is already here. I expected them to say “Get into ChatGPT, search the web, learn to use it.” But, instead, both experts emphasised the importance of reminding ourselves that we are human, and making sure that we prioritise human interaction, debate, and discovery, so that we remain the directors and shapers of the use of such technology.
I was reminded of this when I received some feedback recently about a radio broadcast that I had done about AI-powered drones used in war. As part of a rota of different faith representatives, I periodically contribute to Thought for the Day on Radio 4’s Today programme. The broadcast is at 7.45 a.m.; by 8 a.m., I know if I have said something to upset listeners. If I have, the inbox can fill up pretty quickly. This particular correspondent, however, with military experience, generously took time to respond to my assertion that the use of AI-powered drones to identify targets and attack them was somehow distancing human beings from the consequences of our own decision to go to war.
On the contrary, he commented, however sophisticated the AI, human decision-making was still both necessary and traumatising. Even from far away, a drone operator can spend some time watching targets and learning habits and movements, before setting in motion the operation that will end a life. The ethical implications of co-operation between human and AI decision-making are something that has long been the study of defence ethicists. As my correspondent pointed out, I could take more time to educate myself on what should be a subject of reflection and concern.
Notes of change
RATHER than read an Advent book, I am listening to an album, Lux, by the Catalan singer Rosalia. Her music is inventive, creative, and accomplished; the production is cutting-edge, and her voice is strikingly beautiful. She has created waves as a pop star who has teamed up with a serious classical orchestra, the LSO.
But what makes it my Advent listening is that she has researched female saints from around the world, and has written songs inspired by their life stories, learning 14 languages in order to sing in the appropriate language for each song. In her audacity and sincerity, I hear a modern-day Magnificat from a young woman who is saying that life is worth living — but also that the world does not have to be as it is.
Starter’s orders
IN ALL these exchanges, with a news agenda that shines a light on the latest AI developments with a mixture of admiration and fear, while at the same time reporting the failure of the international community to do anything meaningful about the climate breakdown that we have ourselves created, it is easy to concede that the polycrisis will overwhelm and crush the fragile human communities that have somehow survived until now.
But, in Advent, of all seasons, despair is not an option; so I’m left with the conviction that figuring out what it is to be human is more vital than ever, and that Advent, with its imperative to read the signs of the times, is the best possible season in which to start.
The Revd Lucy Winkett is Rector of St James’s, Piccadilly, and Priest-in-Charge of St Pancras Church, Euston Road, in the diocese of London.