Journalism from a Christian worldview: An explainer

A human stands beside a cross on a mountain. Credit: Pixabay / Pexels

As the development of artificial intelligence accelerates, the world needs a new philosophy. By the world, I mean people who feel they lack power over certain aspects of their lives: the poor, the sick, the depraved, the seeker. And by philosophy, I mean a way of thinking about reality and the purpose of existence.

This new philosophy is not particularly new. It was first made evident by Jesus of Nazareth, now more popularly referred to as Jesus Christ, the messiah, the anointed one. What I will attempt to do, over the next 24 months, is to update this philosophy for the 21st century.

The core idea underpinning this philosophy is two-fold. One, that the power of Christ is more reason than faith. And two: while the story that Jesus Christ died for the world is true, a better story is that he died for his friends.

I started to write about this philosophy in 2016 and will continue to do so for as long as I'm able to. Aside from Jesus’ own admonition to spread the gospel to all corners of the earth, this latest attempt is partly motivated by two reasons. One, to engage with the idea, in some quarters that AI will never supersede human intelligence. I believe this conclusion comes from an incomplete understanding of mankind’s ingenuity.

The second reason is more personal. I recently rebranded the Question Marker, a publication I started with two friends in 2019, as ‘Journalism from a Christian worldview’. I hope that by attempting to outline this philosophy once again, I can provide the theoretical foundation for what it means to practise journalism from a Christian worldview.

Below, I provide a summary of the essays I plan to write during this 24-month period. I will most likely extend the timeline – sorry, dissertation problems abound – but it’s always nice to have a deadline to push against.

1. A rhetorical theory of everything

2. The two forms of knowing

3. Proposing Language Mathematics

4. The origin of morality

5. The second story of Jesus

6. AI as the Anti-Christ

7. Journalism from a Christian Worldview

A rhetorical theory of everything

Until his death in April 1955, Albert Einstein – along with some of his contemporaries – was working to marshal electromagnetism and gravity into a unified field theory. He did not succeed. And while candidates such as string theory remain in circulation, a framework that unifies all known fundamental forces in the universe remains beyond the grasp of modern physics. I describe this ongoing quest for explanation as the search for a material theory of everything. I’m not interested in this particular quest, partly because I’m not a physicist. More importantly, however, I contend that the rhetorical must come before the material, the known before the unknown. Indeed, the rhetorical has come and has been with us for more than two thousand years.

But what do I mean by a rhetorical theory of everything and of what use is it? To answer that question, it is important to pose a more elementary question: why do we theorize about anything at all? Theories help us to appreciate and understand a phenomenon. And they also help with replication and prediction. So, a theory of everything, then, should help us appreciate and understand the universe. It should also be able to help us replicate reality and make perfect predictions. Obviously, we do not possess a theory of everything. None of us can replicate reality and make perfect predictions. This is the domain of a material theory of everything. However, with a rhetorical theory of everything, one is able to appreciate and understand reality.

So, of what use is the ability to appreciate and understand reality? You realize ultimate power. (My conceptualization of power is largely relational.) You become like Christ, a man who testified to being God and who urged his followers to do the same. You emerge from what Marxists like to describe as a false consciousness. And you become free. By free, I do not mean free from pain or want. I mean free from suffering.

“Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”

In this essay, I will attempt to help you realize the rhetorical. You know it already. You just need to realize it. Together, we will attempt to re-write the history of the material universe. If we succeed, then I will propose that we construct a model of the material universe with the ‘cross’ as the fundamental building block. The ‘cross’, here, is a teaching aid (In 2016, I expressed the rhetorical as a mathematical equation, but that’s not very helpful as a communication device). The rhetorical itself is not a cross. It is just how we see it.

The two forms of knowing

Most people believe Jesus was a faith healer, a man who received his power from a transcendent source. There is little in the four gospels that contradicts this. But in this essay, I will make the argument that the source of his power was immanent, that is, bounded by reason. This, of course, does not suggest that faith is not important or that Christ is not God. Rather, the big claim here is that logic is the most efficient way to understand the rhetorical. By logic, I mean the form of knowing subject to human agreement.

“Again I say unto you, That if two of you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”

The form of knowing not subject to human agreement – imagination – is equally important. It is child-like. If logic is the key to understanding the rhetorical, imagination is crucial to enjoying it. But my goal, here, is not to entertain you.

“Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, Nay; but rather division: For from henceforth there shall be five in one house divided, three against two, and two against three. The father shall be divided against the son, and the son against the father; the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother; the mother in law against her daughter in law, and the daughter in law against her mother in law.”

Rather, my goal is to argue that the work of Christ – which is to demolish suffering – can only be carried out through reason.

Proposing Language Mathematics

In 2016 when I first wrote about the rhetorical, I was largely working through imagination, making things up as I went. Now, I’m writing through reason using a technique I have decided to name ‘Language Mathematics’. I define the technique as “the conscious disentangling of the material world (reality) through natural vernacular processed at the binary level.”

In LM, language simply means ‘natural language’, as in the type of language we use everyday. And mathematics means ‘artificial language’. I don’t mean mathematics as an academic discipline.

One way to think about LM is as a more precise version of the Socratic method. It is more precise because every analysis is done at the level of 0 and 1.

“But from the beginning of the creation God made them male and female.”

It is important to stress that 0 and 1 does not necessarily mean two. All computer logic is processed at the level of 0 and 1 but I’ve never met a computer programmer who works at that level. Also, Yoruba divination is based on binary logic but what the system itself produces is not two-fold. However, LM as a systematic tool is designed to be perfect, not in a moral sense. I mean perfect in terms of its input and output. If you can solve simple equations, you already know what I mean.

I conceive it as a tool which humans can use to navigate a new world. If natural language separated us from other animals and artificial language divided the human species into the haves and have-nots, then LM, because it is rooted in context, will separate humans from intelligent robots.

The origin of morality

The ‘good’ in ‘good news’ is not about morality, it is about the future.

For someone who has been thinking about Christian contradictions for more than 15 years, I only resolved the ‘morality problem’ for myself a few months ago. Morality is about propriety, order, structure, beauty, tradition, norms, righteousness. And it’s what got Jesus killed.

“My doctrine is not mine, but his that sent me. If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself. He that speaketh of himself seeketh his own glory: but he that seeketh his glory that sent him, the same is true, and no unrighteousness is in him. Did not Moses give you the law, and yet none of you keepeth the law? Why go ye about to kill me?”

Jesus, himself, was less concerned about being viewed as moral.

Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God: but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments.

To follow Christ, then, is not to be viewed as moral. It is to be powerful. Like Moses, this is the starting point. The law gives power. The difference between Moses and Jesus, however, is what you do after you become powerful.

Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.

To be a Christian, then, is not merely about loving your God (tribalism), it is also about loving your neighbor (liberalism). For the powerful, as I’ll attempt to show in this essay, this is an insanely difficult rule to follow. But it’s also why America, despite its imperial and authoritarian character, is the greatest nation in the history of the world, yet.

The second story of Jesus

This summer, I wrote a paper using a method described by the communication professor Jim A. Kuypers as rhetorical framing analysis. My understanding of the method is two-fold: context and framing. And it’s what I intend to use in narrating the second story of Jesus.

The context, here, is the four gospels. For the framing, I will assume that there are two frames: Jesus as God and Jesus as man. The conclusion of the first frame is that Jesus died for the world. There is no reason, in my opinion, to doubt this. But my goal is to show you that the second frame tells a more powerful story.

In the third season of the Netflix political thriller, House of Cards, Frank Underwood (played by Kevin Spacey) asks a profound question: why didn’t he (Jesus) fight back? He had the power to.

Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels?

To say it was because he wanted to save the world and had faith in God is true but it cheapens the work of Christ. Many people can endure beatings and crucifixion if they are certain they will rise on the third day and sit on the right hand of God for eternity. His faith was not rooted in certainty.

“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”

His faith was rooted in love.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

Even when those friends – Judas and Peter – betray you. For the powerful, this is the hardest of truths to accept. But it is the only way to accomplish the work of Christ – which is to demolish suffering.

AI as the anti-Christ

If Jesus is the most complete expression of God, then the anti-Christ cannot be human. That is, it cannot be imperfect and powerful. The defining characteristics of machines is that they are most powerful when they are perfect. AI is hardly perfect but it is powerful.

In response to AI’s growing capabilities, some maintain that it will never supersede human intelligence, that it is another fad, another hyped-up technology. One of the assumptions behind this school of thought is that human intelligence or consciousness is transcendent, that it is somehow different to, say, animal intelligence.

In this essay, I will attempt to argue that AI intelligence is the same as human (animal) intelligence, as they are both predictable and unpredictable. The difference, however, is meaning. I define meaning as the resolution of complexity. One may be able to program intelligence, as God has done, but one cannot program meaning as it is always subject to choice (0,1). Therefore, the big question AI poses to us is whether humans can fully transition from the age of reason to the age of meaning.

Do ye now believe? Behold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, that ye shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave me alone: and yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me. These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.

And there you have it, the certainty of the ‘good’ in ‘good news’. The future comes with pain and want. But the age of meaning is determined to be beautiful.

Journalism from a Christian worldview

If a Christian is someone who wields power with love, then what does it mean to practise journalism from a Christian worldview?

Perhaps the starting point would be to point out that journalism is not about printing the truth. It is a truth-finding process. And the outcome is inevitably proportional to the input. Over the past four centuries, this process has been modified and improved in many ways but, as I tried to explain in a paper I submitted to the journal Journalism this summer, journalism’s output remains subjective because it is always (has to be) open to contention.

Likewise, to be a Christian requires contention, struggle.

And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force.

Journalism from a Christian worldview then is not about balance. It is a critique. But it is also not about pessimism. It is positivist.

Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

In other words, journalism from a Christian worldview is critical of inconsistency, but not from a place of despair. Instead, its critique stems from a place of hope, and joy. ✚