Bearing Faithful Witness in Our Technological Age

Introduction 

In the blink of an eye, technology has woven itself into every corner of our lives. The internet, smartphones, artificial intelligence, and corporate control over digital spaces now shape the way we think, work, and relate to one another. Yet these seismic shifts happened so quickly, we rarely stopped to ask: Who is behind them? Did we ever have a say?

While laws and policies are hotly debated in public forums, the technologies steering our daily lives emerge with little public scrutiny and even less accountability. In recent years, the rise of tech oligarchs — powerful elites whose wealth and influence rival that of nations — has made it clear that technological development isn’t just a matter of innovation, but of power. Decisions made in boardrooms behind closed doors now carry enormous political consequences, yet the public has no vote, no voice, and no real means of challenging the technologies that empower these digital empires.

We’ve been led to believe that technology is neutral — a set of tools designed to make life simpler. But is that true? Increasingly, it feels like technology isn’t something we use; it’s something that uses us. Algorithms decide what we see online, AI systems make choices that impact our lives, and corporate surveillance quietly maps our every move.

But, the crucial problem isn’t just that these forces exist — it’s that they’re shaping our very humanity without our consent and, therefore, without serious moral deliberation. They’re reshaping our sense of agency, our ability to make moral decisions, and even our grasp of reality itself.

As Christians, we must ask hard questions. What does it mean to be human in an age of AI, burgeoning corporate culture, and the internet? How do we exercise moral judgment when misinformation is rampant? And how do we, as the Church, bear faithful witness in a world where technology often undermines human dignity and freedom?

The Erosion of Human Agency 

At the heart of this issue is agency—the ability to make meaningful, independent choices. We like to think we’re in control of our decisions, but technology increasingly mediates our choices in ways we don’t fully grasp. Social media platforms, search engines, and recommendation algorithms don’t just present information neutrally; they shape what we see, influence how we think, and push us toward certain behaviours. And much of this happens without our conscious input. 

Companies like Google, Meta, and Amazon wield enormous power over what enters our field of vision. Their platforms optimize for engagement, not truth, favouring content that provokes emotional reactions—often fear, outrage, or tribal loyalty. As a result, misinformation spreads faster than truth, and we find ourselves living in echo chambers, unable to discern what’s real and what’s manipulation. This makes moral and political judgment harder than ever. 

Neil Postman warned about this cultural shift decades ago. In Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology, he argued that when a society fails to critically examine the impact of technology, it loses its ability to think clearly. Jacques Ellul, in The Technological Society, went even further, suggesting that when technological systems become autonomous—when they develop their own logic apart from human oversight—they begin to dictate human behaviour rather than serve human needs. 

This loss of agency isn’t confined to the digital realm. Managerial culture in workplaces has been deeply shaped by technology as well. Many jobs now operate under data-driven performance metrics that treat workers as numbers on a spreadsheet rather than people with dignity. Surveillance technologies track employees’ productivity, reinforcing the idea that a person’s worth is tied to their output rather than their intrinsic value. This reflects what Postman called technopoly—a world where efficiency and control are the ultimate values, leaving little room for meaning, relationship, or ethical reflection. And because people and organisations—including the Church—mimic cultures of power, this ‘managerialism’ is quickly being exported to every part of our lives.

The Rise of Surveillance Capitalism and the Dehumanising Effects of Technology 

Shoshana Zuboff, in The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, argues that we’re living through the rise of a new form of power—one that treats human experience as raw material for profit. Tech companies collect data on everything we do, using it to predict our behavior and, ultimately, to shape it. This means that rather than technology serving us, we are being shaped to serve it. Our desires, our fears, even our sense of identity—these are subtly guided by algorithms designed to maximize profit for corporations. In this system, our personal data is sold, our attention is monetized, and our choices are manipulated. 

Zuboff’s analysis reveals a profound dehumanisation at the heart of surveillance capitalism. By reducing human experience to data points, this system fractures our sense of self and community. It manipulates our desires and fears, not to serve our well-being, but to extract value from our behavior. Zuboff argues that we’re no longer the subjects of our own lives, but objects of a new market logic that treats us as less than human.

Wendell Berry, the poet and farmer, offers a complementary critique. For decades, Berry has warned that modern technology, when left unchecked, fractures communities and disrupts the rhythms of life that sustain human flourishing. His critique of industrialism applies just as well to the digital world: when efficiency and profit become the ultimate goals, human relationships and ethical considerations are side-lined. Berry writes, “I do not see that computers are bringing us one step nearer to anything that does matter to me: peace, economic justice, ecological health, political honesty, family and community stability, good work.” This can also be said of much that has followed the development of computers.

Together, Zuboff and Berry paint a stark picture of how technology dehumanises us. By fracturing society, manipulating our desires and fears, and treating human experience as raw material for profit, surveillance capitalism undermines the very foundations of human dignity. This loss of agency and connection has profound ethical consequences, affecting democracy, privacy, mental health, and social trust. 

The Illusion of Transhumanist Progress 

In response to these concerns, some argue that the solution isn’t to resist technology but to embrace it even more fully. The transhumanist movement believes that human limitations—whether biological, cognitive, or even moral—can and should be overcome through technology. They imagine a future where artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, and cybernetic enhancements allow us to transcend our current condition. 

At first glance, this vision might seem hopeful. Who wouldn’t want to eliminate disease, extend life, or enhance intelligence? But beneath this optimism lies a troubling assumption: that our humanity is a problem to be fixed rather than a gift to be embraced. 

Transhumanism is a kind of false gospel, which replaces the Christian hope of resurrection with the technological dream of self-transcendence. In this view, salvation comes not from grace, community, or love, but from upgrading ourselves through technology. Having created machines in our own image, we have now began to recreate ourselves in the image of machines. The Enlightenment's shift from viewing humanity as imago Dei to imago hominis has ultimately led to our self-conception as imago machina. But history has shown that every technological advance, no matter how promising, comes with unintended consequences. More importantly, when we place ultimate faith in human innovation, we risk losing sight of the deeper realities of what it means to be human. 

Jacques Ellul’s warning about technological autonomy is particularly relevant here. He argued that once a technology exists, it takes on a life of its own, shaping society in ways beyond our control. If we don’t stop to ask why we are developing certain technologies, we may find ourselves in a world where human life, consciousness, and even moral reasoning are shaped by AI systems and corporate interests rather than by God’s design. 

Pope Francis, in Laudato Si’, offers a counter-vision. He warns against the “technocratic paradigm”—the assumption that technological progress is always good and that efficiency is the highest goal. Instead, he calls for an “integral ecology” that values relationships over control and sees human beings as part of a larger, interconnected world. This vision stands in stark contrast to transhumanism, reminding us that our dignity is something not to be engineered but honoured and protected. 

Bearing Faithful Witness in a Digital World 

So, how should Christians respond? How do we bear faithful witness in an age where technology is reshaping what it means to be human? 

First, we must resist the temptation to embrace technology uncritically. This doesn’t mean rejecting all technological advancements, but it does mean being discerning. We need to ask hard questions: Does this technology serve human flourishing within the created order, or does it diminish it? Does it foster real relationships, or does it isolate us? Does it respect human dignity, or does it treat people as data points to be exploited?

Second, we must prioritize relationships over efficiency. The Christian vision of community runs counter to the isolating tendencies of digital culture. In a world that values speed and convenience, we need to cultivate spaces where people can truly be present with one another. Wendell Berry’s emphasis on small, rooted communities offers a helpful corrective to the dehumanizing effects of large-scale technological systems. 

Finally, we must place our hope not in technological progress but in the Kingdom of God. The challenges of the digital age can feel overwhelming, but our ultimate hope doesn’t lie in our ability to master technology—it lies in God’s promise of redemption. C.S. Lewis, in That Hideous Strength, paints a picture of a world seduced by technocratic control but ultimately redeemed not through domination but through humility, love, and surrender to the divine order. His vision reminds us that no technological system, no corporate power, no AI-driven future can replace the fundamental reality of God’s presence in the world. It is that Presence, revealed in our life together as Christians, that a scarred world is set on the path of healing in our own time.

In the end, bearing faithful witness in our technological age isn’t about rejecting the digital world, but about engaging with it wisely, while fiercely guarding the dignity of each priceless individual. By reclaiming human agency under God’s grace and seeking truth in a sea of misinformation, we choose to live in ways that that commit us to serious moral deliberation and celebrate our creatureliness. By resisting the forces that seek to dehumanize us, we bear witness to a kingdom where love, justice, and truth reign supreme and are manifested in the delight we have in each other and the God we worship. In doing so, we bear witness to a deeper truth: that our worth is not measured by our data, our productivity, or our technological prowess, but by the love of the God who created us.