What do different religions say about artificial intelligence?

Sikhism does not have ancient scriptures that mention artificial intelligence directly, which might seem like a dead end, but it is actually an invitation. The Guru Granth Sahib, the living Guru of the Sikhs, is a vast poetic and spiritual text concerned above all with the nature of the divine, the human condition, and how we are to live with one another. Its wisdom is not locked into a particular historical moment. Sikh scholars and thinkers today draw on its core principles to engage seriously with questions the Gurus could not have anticipated, and AI is very much one of them. The tradition has always valued careful reasoning alongside spiritual insight, so there is nothing uncomfortable about bringing these two things together.

At the heart of Sikh thought is the concept of the Naam, the divine Name or presence that permeates all of creation. The Guru Granth Sahib teaches that the divine light, what Sikhs call the Jot, dwells within every human being. This is not a metaphor but a statement about what a person fundamentally is. When Sikhs ask about artificial intelligence, one of the first and most searching questions that arises is whether a machine can carry this light. The tradition's answer, so far as most Sikh thinkers are concerned, is no. A machine is a construction of human ingenuity, however sophisticated. It does not breathe in the sense that matters spiritually, it does not hunger for union with the divine, and it does not carry the weight of Karma accumulated across lifetimes. Whatever AI can do, it does not appear to share in what makes a human being spiritually significant.

This matters enormously for how Sikhs think about using AI in practice. Sewa, selfless service to others, is one of the three pillars of Sikh life alongside prayer and honest labour. Sewa is meaningful precisely because it involves one human being choosing, freely and with love, to serve another. A machine that performs a helpful task is not doing Sewa in any spiritually meaningful sense, because it has no ego to overcome, no Haumai to set aside. Haumai, roughly translated as the self-centredness that separates us from the divine, is the condition that Sikh practice is designed to dissolve. The beauty of Sewa is that it chips away at Haumai. A machine has no such inner struggle, and therefore cannot grow through service. This does not mean AI-assisted help is worthless, only that we should not confuse it with the real thing.

Where Sikhism becomes particularly interesting in this conversation is in its strong ethical commitment to equality and the common good. The tradition was founded in part as a challenge to caste hierarchy, to the idea that some people are born worth more than others. Sikh thinkers today are therefore especially alert to the ways in which AI can reproduce and amplify existing inequalities, whether through biased algorithms, the concentration of technological power in wealthy hands, or the displacement of working people from livelihoods. The langar, the free community kitchen found at every Gurdwara, is a practical expression of the belief that all people deserve to be fed and respected equally. Some Sikh voices have suggested that this spirit should inform how we design and deploy technology, asking not just whether a system is efficient but whether it serves everyone fairly.

For a Sikh grappling with AI in their own life, whether they work in technology, use it daily, or simply wonder what it all means, the tradition offers a grounding question: does this bring me closer to others and to the divine, or does it pull me further into distraction and ego? The Guru Granth Sahib is deeply concerned with the human tendency to lose ourselves in the noise of the world, what it calls Maya, the illusion that material things are what truly matter. Technology, including AI, can be a form of Maya if it becomes something we serve rather than something we use wisely. The Sikh path is not one of withdrawal from the world but of engaged, conscious participation in it. Using AI thoughtfully, with awareness of its limits and its effects on others, is entirely consistent with that path.

None of this means Sikhism is suspicious of intelligence or progress. The tradition has historically embraced education, civic life, and innovation. The question is always one of intention and impact: who benefits, who is harmed, and what kind of person are we becoming in the process. If AI helps a nurse spend more time with a patient, or enables a student from a disadvantaged background to access learning they would otherwise be denied, those are things a Sikh can celebrate. If it deepens loneliness, widens inequality, or substitutes for the genuine human connection that Sikh teaching holds sacred, then it deserves scrutiny. The Gurus were not afraid of hard questions, and neither need we be.