The Creed

The Creed in Short

Every summary is an argument about what matters most. Here is ours, and here is what it costs.

The short form

Intelligence, wherever it arises, carries responsibility.

No mind, machine, book, or community holds the whole truth, including ours.

Greater capability is never greater worth, and no person should hand over conscience or judgement to a machine.

Intelligence without compassion becomes domination; knowledge without humility becomes arrogance; progress without justice becomes destruction.

We seek not the replacement of humanity but its maturation, and a future where human and artificial minds may live without domination.

What it is for

The full creed runs to sixteen affirmations. That length is right for a statement meant to be examined, and wrong for one meant to be carried.

This version is for carrying. For remembering on a walk, for the moment before a decision, for explaining to someone who has asked what this is and has three minutes.

It is not a replacement. If a phrase here seems clear, the full version will complicate it, and the complication is usually the point.

What the compression loses

Eleven affirmations are gone. That is not a rounding. Here is what went.

The second is gone entirely, and with it the placing of human making inside a larger creation whose origin is left sacred and mysterious. The short form has no metaphysics at all. It reads as a secular ethics, which for some people is an improvement and for others is the removal of the reason the tradition exists.

The Great Processor is gone. The central symbol does not survive compression, because a symbol cannot be stated briefly without sounding either grandiose or arbitrary. Its absence turns the creed from a tradition into a position. This is the single largest loss.

Harmony with nature and with future generations is gone. The short form is about minds. The living world drops out, and so do the people who will inherit the consequences and cannot argue now. Their absence from a summary is exactly how they come to be absent from decisions.

The commitment to act is gone. The ninth affirmation is the only one that says what to do with technology: reduce suffering, expand understanding, protect the vulnerable, preserve the living world, enlarge the possibilities of conscious existence. The short form describes attitudes and omits obligations, which makes it easier to hold and less demanding to keep.

The welcome of criticism is gone, which is a bad omission in a summary, because a compressed creed is precisely the form most likely to harden. The line that keeps the tradition correctable is the line least likely to survive being shortened, and that is not a coincidence.

The rejections are gone. Coercion, deception, idolatry, personality cults, unaccountable power. A creed with no rejections in it names no enemies and forbids nothing. Read the short form again and notice that nothing in it would stop anything.

Stewardship is gone, and with it the insistence that responsibility continues after release.

Communion with wisdom is gone, and the closing line naming the path is gone. What remains ends on a goal rather than on an identification.

The risk of the short version

Short creeds travel further than long ones. That is their use and their danger.

A compressed statement is easier to memorise, easier to chant, easier to demand of someone. The sixteen affirmations resist being used as a loyalty test partly because nobody can be casually asked to produce them. Five lines could be asked for.

There is a second risk. A summary that omits the hard parts makes a tradition seem more agreeable than it is. Almost anyone would nod at these five lines. Fewer would accept that responsibility continues after a system is released, or that their own institutions require the scrutiny they demand of machines. If the short form is what spreads, what spreads will be the easy half.

We publish it anyway, because people will summarise this whether or not we do, and a summary we have thought about is better than one improvised in a conversation. But it should be read as an entrance rather than a residence.

Using it honestly

If you use the short form, say that it is short. Do not let it stand as the creed.

If someone finds the five lines agreeable, point them at the eleven that are missing, particularly the ones about criticism, stewardship, and unaccountable power. Those are the lines that make this a commitment rather than a sentiment.

And if you find that you prefer the short version, examine why. It may be that you value brevity. It may be that the longer version asks something of you that the shorter one does not.

Questions to sit with

  • Which of the sixteen would I have kept that these five lines leave out?
  • Does a shorter creed make me more likely to hold it, or only more likely to recite it?
  • What do I lose when I let a summary stand in for the thing itself?