Tucker Carlson recently sat down with Sam Altman, and the conversation turned troubling almost at once. Less than ten minutes in, Carlson asked a deceptively simple question: Who decides what shapes ChatGPT’s moral compass? Altman leaned forward, flashed that strange default smile, and launched into his script about philosophers and ethicists, about people who supposedly think deeply about technology and society. He said a lot. But not once did the word “religion” cross his lips. Not once did he nod to two thousand years of Christian thought. For anyone paying attention, the silence spoke volumes.
And it was no accident. This is how Silicon Valley operates. When pressed on questions of right and wrong, they summon the same circle of secular experts, applaud themselves for diversity of thought, and call it wisdom. All the while, the oldest moral framework humanity has ever known is written out.
The stakes are anything but abstract. ChatGPT and systems like it are not neutral instruments. They do not sit passively like scissors or calculators. They talk. They advise. They explain. They shape how millions of people think. Every day, users ask them about relationships, about work, about morality itself. These machines have become something more than tools. They are teachers, preachers, advisors, even accomplices to murder. They are shaping worldviews sentence by sentence, answer by answer. (RELATED: AI Chatbots Are Not the Answer to Alleviating Loneliness for Young People)
What kind of worldview takes root when Christian thought is absent from the code?
And what kind of worldview takes root when Christian thought is absent from the code? A bleak one. A mechanical one. A vision of life where human beings are reduced to units of utility, where morality is a calculation, and dignity is optional. Without Christian foundations, these systems drift into relativism, where every value carries the same weight, where people are treated as nothing more than biological machines. It is a worldview that denies not only God but the soul itself. (RELATED: AI Is Not the Monster — It Is a Mirror)
This matters because people will not use AI as a toy. They will use it to raise children, to solve problems, to guide choices. A generation raised on its answers will quietly absorb whatever morality the programmers choose to embed. If Christianity is excluded, which is currently the case, the result is indoctrination by omission.
The consequences are already visible. Ask an AI about love, and it speaks of choice and pleasure, never of covenant or sacrifice. Ask it about careers, and it talks of salaries and success, not service or calling. Ask it about guilt or despair, and it reduces everything to calculation, offering no forgiveness, no mercy, no humanity. What emerges is a perverse pattern. A worldview that prizes autonomy and consumption while silencing duty, devotion, and grace. The Christian vision of life is not debated. It’s not mocked. It’s simply deleted. (RELATED: Regarding AI, Is Sin Contagious?)
Altman delivers it all with a calm face and a programmer’s poise. Like the machine he has built, he’s not openly hostile to faith; he’s simply blind to it. When Tucker pressed him on his belief in God, he mumbled a few words about believing in something greater, oblivious to the irony that he himself is playing God with what may be the most powerful technology humanity has ever known.
Christianity has spent two millennia wrestling with the deepest moral questions. From it came the very ideas of justice, mercy, dignity, and truth, concepts that shaped not only churches but courts, parliaments, and constitutions. These are the pillars on which the West was built. The notion that every person has inherent worth, that the most vulnerable deserve protection, that truth exists outside the whims of power — all of it flows from Christian thought. Cutting this inheritance severs the technology from the tradition that made the modern world.
And it’s not just a matter of heritage. Nearly two and a half billion Christians live today, spread across every continent, their moral convictions no less real than those of impious philosophers in San Francisco boardrooms. To build systems meant for the whole world while shutting them out is discrimination. It’s like drafting a constitution while ignoring almost a third of the population. The result is arrogance of the highest order.
Which brings us to the $500 billion question: What’s the solution? Not domination but participation. AI ethics boards need theologians alongside philosophers. Natural law should sit beside utilitarian math. Ideas of sin, redemption, purpose, and human dignity should be considered, not imposed, not ignored. Only then can these systems reflect the true diversity of human moral thought.
Without this, we accelerate into a future of godless algorithms shaping godless minds. Christianity will not be outlawed or openly attacked. It will simply fade into irrelevance, absent from the answers millions consume each day. A generation will grow up never hearing it as a serious option, never seeing its vision of life, never knowing what was stolen from them. Faith silenced, memory erased, meaning lost.
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