Letters from Andrew: "Awash in information and bereft of wisdom"

A great meditation from my friend Andrew Gniadek

Awash in information, bereft of wisdom

Dear Larry,

It has been a while since my last letter; life certainly has a way of keeping us busy, doesn't it?

Decades ago, I delved into the world of digital information for my first master's degree, exploring how we form, utilize, and present everything from video to text to applications. We live in a world saturated with information, which, in many ways, is a good thing. As a book lover, I appreciate being able to get almost any book I want on my doorstep within a week. I'm not on social media; I was an early Facebook user in 2004 but had my account deleted in 2006 and never looked back. Access to information, such as the ease of finding books, is excellent, but socializing on Facebook's platform isn't for me. My experience has been that the information shared there often lacks depth, and the interactions can be superficial or even hostile.

The internet, at its core, is a tool for sending and receiving information. While some use it for socializing, gaming, or movies, its most significant impact is the amplification of information sharing. However, this amplification has also magnified inauthenticity, particularly among "influencers"—those with podcasts or YouTube channels who sway audiences with their thoughts, reactions, and comments. This creates a parasocial relationship where influencers often cater to what they believe their audience wants. The advent of AI has made content creation frighteningly easy. A cursory look at video-generating AI reveals a terrifying acceleration of inauthenticity, not only in the source of the content ("did someone actually write this script?") but also in who the content portrays ("is that actually Andrew speaking?"). This AI-driven reality transforms the so-called "vibrant information ecosystem" into a "rat race" fueled by audience impulses, further blurring the line between human and machine and devaluing our unique human experience. While AI is efficient (and as a tech person, I appreciate efficiency), it risks sidelining the human heart's essential struggle with self, faith, and neighbor in the pursuit of becoming the person God intends.

For years, the Catholic content-generating machine operated on the peripheries of the internet, which was initially perceived as a medium for fringe groups. Yet, over time, more and more content emerged, aiming to teach the faith and report on Church news—allegedly "good" information to have. However, the sheer volume and nature of this information, alongside the rise of AI-driven content, present a profound challenge to genuine spiritual wisdom, fostering a kind of spiritual gluttony where the content consumer becomes inordinately attached to the feelings, consolations, and validations of this content, or a particular content creator, rather than the content serving as a vehicle for God.

There is a lack of spiritual temperance in response to spiritual gluttony, which illustrates a broader issue in our discourse: a pervasive tendency to delegate personal responsibility for our spiritual lives to content creators. Instead of converting our own hearts, becoming personal lights through lived witness, and engaging in tangible acts of charity within our families and communities, we offload this vital work. Content creators become proxies for subjective personal preferences, which, while incidentally objectively correct, arise from a superficial engagement with reality rather than a profound one. This isn't a genuine argument or evangelization; it's often a reinforcement of existing beliefs, an ego projection onto others using a supposed authority's voice as a proxy, diverting us from the radical call to personal transformation and theosis—the bedrock and ultimate purpose of our faith. AI, in this context, accelerates our retreat from authentic engagement, making it easier to dwell in self-validating echo chambers rather than stepping out to encounter Christ in the messiness of real life, both in ourselves and in others. Our discourse then becomes a reflection of our vapid culture, where intellectual pride obscures genuine humility, patience, and the pursuit of truth. One cannot pursue truth without humility, for seeking truth means acknowledging prior ignorance or error. This desire to be "right" is a symptom of an attachment to our own opinions and a desire to impose them through a democratic pseudo-authority of the most listened-to person, rather than a charitable seeking of understanding. This environment discourages genuine intellectual depth and spiritual growth, often devolving into a battleground of shallow opinions rather than a dialogue grounded in shared wisdom and experience. Opinions derived from subjective personal preference lack depth and crumble under the slightest force from reality. Depth requires listening, seeking understanding before judging, and approaching our faith with true reverence—an awe of our unique souls' relationship within the mystery of the Church as the Mystical Body to the Triune Community of Persons that is our God.

Ultimately, content creation has a telos: the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Any Catholic content creator, regardless of the theological subject, must not only point beyond itself to God as a symbol but also manifest Christ in history as a type. The content must inspire and draw people closer to Christ and His Church. If we lose sight of this goal, our creative endeavors are empty and hollow, for "without Him we can do nothing."

To speak for myself, more than a decade ago when I encountered this phenomenon, I initially found myself caught up in the awareness of these things, whether truths of the faith or evil, as a way to seek validation — to have my beliefs confirmed in a manner that provides an emotional lift, and to turn away from things that seem "dry." I saw the emotions and validation as incidental by-products of the content; it's natural and good to be angry at intrinsic evils, right? Yet, I realized that this space often serves as a prime environment for spiritual gluttony to flourish.

Spiritual gluttony conflates the good feeling of genuinely growing in God with God Himself and the goal of union with Him, ignoring the nourishment that comes from content that doesn't evoke strong positive emotions, whether those emotions are objectively justified or not. It increases impatience, dismisses or ignores others as enemies or unworthy of understanding, diminishes commitment to prayer, and fosters a so-called "righteous fight" based on these emotions rather than truth, regardless of how difficult that truth may be to accept. Today, spiritual gluttony seems to be the default state, where individuals seek validation or content about the faith that merely generates emotional highs—a shallow fix rather than something spiritually nourishing—and avoid anything that challenges them to break free from an addiction to consolation so that they can live for God.

As we navigate the intersection of technology and faith, we must recognize the danger of spiritual gluttony—a tendency to seek quick fixes and superficial insights that ultimately leave us longing for more. The rapid delivery of AI-generated content can exacerbate this issue, providing us with instant access to vast amounts of information that often lack depth and meaning. With barriers lowered, shallow ideas can proliferate, encouraging a culture of consumption rather than contemplation. As a result, we may find ourselves devouring content that satisfies momentary curiosity but fails to foster the genuine, transformative relationship with God that we truly need. Instead of allowing these tools to distract us from our spiritual journey, we must be intentional in our use of technology, striving to seek out authentic connections and experiences that nourish and deepen our faith. All of us must remain vigilant against the allure of convenience, prioritizing a quest for truth rooted in humility and a commitment to grow in our relationship with Christ, even amidst the temptations of an oversaturated digital landscape.

I say this with deep respect for the benefits that technology provides and the many improvements in life it has brought. My only intention is to share some thoughts on how we must use spiritual discernment in this digital landscape.

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