We see a fascinating split in Silicon Valley's philosophy. On one side, you have the doomsayers—effective altruists who lose sleep over AI potentially ending humanity. On the other, the profit-minded pragmatists who can't get enough of AI.
As usual, money won out. But behind the flashy products like chatbots and image generators, there's a deeper ambition: the quest for AGI, or artificial general intelligence. Sam Altman calls it “magic in the sky,” hinting at how tech’s top minds really view their creations.
Tech has always had a messianic side, but with AI, it's more intense. When developers start saying things like, “we’re building God,” (as one told Vanity Fair), it’s clear they’re in uncharted territory. Even Google’s Larry Page dreams of a “digital deity.” For Silicon Valley’s transhumanists, it's almost a remix of Christian salvation, but instead of heaven, they’re offering a kind of digital immortality by uploading minds to the cloud.
Look at Marc Andreessen’s recent “Techno-Optimist Manifesto.” Among its visionary language and market worship, he says AI is a kind of philosopher’s stone, turning sand (silicon) into something that thinks. It’s medieval alchemy dressed in hoodies and sneakers.
The Valley loves this kind of magical thinking. Companies name themselves after mystical objects (Palantir) or, like Amazon almost did, after magical words ("Cadabra” before they realized it sounded like “cadaver”). But this isn’t just about weird names; tech leaders are positioning themselves as modern-day wizards, claiming special knowledge and “formulas” to turn silicon into sentient thought.
The irony? The industry that promised to demystify the world with tech is now leaning into mysticism. It’s almost like a new religion is emerging in Northern California’s server farms, complete with its own gods, prophets, and promises of eternal life.
So, when will this “techno-mysticism” bubble burst? Maybe when these self-styled digital prophets realize their AIs are still just really smart calculators, not creators.