When technology becomes religion: How Silicon Valley is reshaping faith
When technology becomes religion: How Silicon Valley is reshaping faith
Greg Epstein explains how tech mirrors religious hierarchies, rituals, and salvation narratives.
"Religion meets a need for belonging, rituals, and meaning," says Greg Epstein. "Today, modern technology fulfills many of those same needs. It connects us to each other and gives us a sense of direction."
Does technology provide connection and direction in the same way as religion?
"Yes. While traditional religions turn to gods or supernatural forces for answers, technology offers a vision of infinite progress and redemption through innovation. This vision is often delivered by the 'chosen ones'—figures who bring the good news of technological advancements. Like religion, technology carries a duality of hope and fear, which makes it such a powerful modern 'faith.' For example, consider the way we view artificial intelligence: some see it as the solution to all our problems, while others fear it could destroy us."
This idea lies at the heart of Epstein's new book, Tech Agnostic: How Technology Became the World's Most Powerful Religion, and Why It Desperately Needs Reformation. The book, which has received extensive global media coverage, argues that modern computing culture mirrors traditional religious ideas about life, death, and the future. Like religion, Epstein explains, technology is preoccupied with immortality, promotes its own prophets, and addresses basic human needs. He describes the parallels as "philosophical, sociological, and emotional."
Epstein speaks from experience, having dedicated his adult life to exploring religion and serving as a spiritual leader for over two decades. As the Humanist Chaplain for Harvard and MIT, he provides a perspective as a religious leader without religion, advocating a worldview of faith without God. He is credited with popularizing the humanist approach, which demonstrates that atheists can live deeply meaningful lives. The New York Times has even dubbed him "the godfather to the humanist movement."
Epstein sees technology as more than a metaphorical religion—it functions as a real theological system. "I've always thought about the way the Torah, which is not supposed to be a physical idol, is adorned with clothing and jewelry and presented in processions like a ritual object," he says. "Today, I see the same kind of worship directed at digital devices. Our phones and screens are like digital altars that we 'worship' hundreds of times a day. In their devotion to these devices and what they represent, many secular people behave like orthodox believers."
This realization led Epstein to explore the theology, hierarchies, and rituals of technology, drawing striking parallels to religion. "In many ways," he noted, "technology has become our new faith."
In what ways?
"I'm talking, for example, about the hockey-stick graph—the one that shows a constant rise in profits. It symbolizes the 'invisible hand' of the market, which is itself a theological idea. Both the 'invisible hand' and the graph have become modern-day symbols of belief. Or take the concepts surrounding artificial intelligence—they resemble religious notions of heaven, hell, and God. There's even the looming possibility of an apocalypse, which creates significant anxiety."
Epstein also highlights the concept of the "chosen ones" in the religion of technology. "In this framework, we aren't chosen by God, because God doesn't exist—at least not yet. But one day, perhaps, God will exist, created by our own hands. For now, we're chosen by fate for our 'genius,' which always seems to look the same: typically, a white man, with or without a beard."
In his book, Epstein details these disparities: 95% of technology entrepreneurs are white, and 40% are graduates of Harvard, Stanford, or both. Additionally, 96% of venture capital is controlled by white men, with just 3% by women, and the remaining 1% shared among everyone else. The entrepreneurs justify their dominance as being based on "meritocracy and opportunity"—just as traditional religions have often framed power as being divinely ordained for the greater good.
This hierarchy, Epstein argues, is deeply embedded in the new religion of technology. "It’s stratification on biblical dimensions," he says. "Instead of rabbis, priests, or imams, the leaders are entrepreneurs, investors, and engineers. They wield immense power over the rest of the world's citizens, and that influence is only growing. This hierarchy could become even more dangerous in the future."
At the base of the hierarchy are the users—the masses who perform the rituals of the religion. "Our devices and social networks have become central to our lives, replacing sacred texts or religious symbols. The rituals are familiar: checking messages, scrolling through a feed, opening a new browser tab, or playing a video. These are the digital equivalents of praying throughout the day or rolling prayer beads."
In the book, Epstein urges us to rethink our relationship with technology. "We need to stop considering ourselves secular when, in reality, we’ve become religious in how we interact with technology. And unfortunately, we often use this religion in troubling ways."
Certified as a Rabbi, Time in Jerusalem, China, and “Married at First Sight”
The concept of technology as a religion didn’t originate with Greg Epstein, nor did it emerge in isolation. It has long been part of the Silicon Valley discourse, which Epstein explores in his book by highlighting its quasi-religious institutions and figureheads. For example, venture capitalist Marc Andreessen, who calls himself the "patron of the techno-optimists," published a manifesto last year repeating the phrase “we believe” 113 times and declaring that “the technological capital machine (…) liberates the human soul.” Similarly, Twitter founder Jack Dorsey spoke of technology’s “mission to expand the light of consciousness,” while Elon Musk claimed he was “accumulating resources to expand the light of consciousness to the stars.”
Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, often ties the religious idea of abundance to his work, saying, “Abundance is our birthright,” while referring to his company’s chatbot as “wonder.” Other tech leaders like Ray Kurzweil and Anthony Levandowski take it further. Kurzweil, a futurist, has spent decades preparing for the singularity, while Levandowski, formerly of Google and Uber, founded the “Church of the Way of the Future” to worship artificial intelligence. Even tech company mottos reflect this ethos: Google evolved from “Don’t be evil” to “Do the right thing,” echoing moral commandments, while Facebook’s goal was to “give everyone a voice and change society.”
At 47, Epstein comes to this discussion with a unique background. Raised in Flushing, Queens, as what he describes as an “assimilated and disinterested Reform Jew,” Epstein earned degrees in religious studies, Judaism, and theology at the University of Michigan, Harvard, and the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He became a secular humanist rabbi in 2005 through the International Institute for Secular Humanistic Judaism (IISHJ).
“I love humanistic philosophy and Jewish culture, but I didn’t want to focus solely on Jewish culture,” Epstein explains. “I studied Buddhism, even spending time in China, but I felt engaging with it was cultural appropriation—borrowing glory from another culture. I wanted something universal, something I grew up with—like my New York neighborhood, where no ethnic or religious group dominated. White people, including Jews like me, were the minority. That’s why I gravitate toward humanism and started building a multicultural humanist community.”
In 2010, Epstein published the bestseller Good Without God: What a Billion Nonreligious People Do Believe, solidifying his reputation as a humanist leader. Over the years, he contributed to The Washington Post, Newsweek, and TechCrunch (where he worked on ethical issues) while also serving as a spiritual advisor for the first three seasons of Married at First Sight.
However, Epstein’s primary work since 2005 has been as the Humanist Chaplain for Harvard and later MIT. At these institutions, whose influence extends far beyond their campuses, Epstein leads programs helping students explore life’s meaning, providing guidance on personal, theological, and professional issues.
“I’m trying to build a community for humanists, atheists, agnostics, non-religious people, and their allies,” Epstein explains, emphasizing that his goal isn’t to lead followers in a religious sense. “Though sociologists may see what I do as religious because it connects people, I’m not asking for spiritual or political loyalty.”
Epstein’s position at Harvard was created in response to a growing trend of young people moving away from traditional religions. By 2018, as more students transitioned from dreaming of Goldman Sachs careers to aspiring to be the next Elon Musk, Epstein took on a parallel role at MIT. In 2021, he became president of the Harvard Chaplains, coordinating over 40 spiritual leaders across various faiths.
Through his work, Epstein observed how technology has replaced religion as the dominant economic and cultural force, shaping spiritual experiences and humanity’s view of itself. His interactions with students and aspiring entrepreneurs underscored the importance of fostering community while discouraging messianic self-perceptions in those drawn to the tech world’s promise of salvation.
Between Salvation and Apocalypse: The Need for Reform
Salvation is central to Silicon Valley's narrative, claims Epstein. Tech companies sell themselves through promises of salvation, portraying their innovations as essential for survival—much like religion. Alongside this promise looms the ever-present threat of an apocalypse. Geoffrey Hinton, the recent Nobel laureate and the so-called "godfather of artificial intelligence," has become a prominent doomsayer, warning that AI could soon surpass human control and potentially annihilate humanity. Elon Musk, the world’s richest man, echoes this sentiment, while proponents of the effective altruism movement suggest an almost sci-fi solution: transforming humanity into digital beings sustained by celestial infrastructure.
Why are apocalyptic ideas so dominant in technology?
"Human curiosity about the future is a major factor," Epstein explains. "This curiosity is driven by hope—we hope to succeed, to find happiness, to see our loved ones thrive—but also by fear. From these emotions emerge the 'what if' scenarios that have accompanied humanity throughout history. In ancient times, personal apocalypses like famine, disease, or natural disasters made it easy for people to imagine larger-scale catastrophes. Today, technological progress has made these fears more tangible.
"When Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb, saw his creation realized, he quoted the Bhagavad Gita: 'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.' In modern times, we use religious language to process our anxieties about technology."
This duality of creation and destruction has always accompanied human progress. "In my book, I explore this idea through the lens of Detroit, which was once one of the most important industrial cities in the world. The Model T, the first mass-produced car, revolutionized life for the masses—not just for individuals—and reshaped modern society. Yet today, the factory where it was produced stands abandoned, a burned-out relic in the heart of a struggling city. Detroit has become a symbol of modernization's failure, the destructive consequences of unchecked progress, and what happens when technological systems collapse. It is a stark image of how modern technology oscillates between miracles and disasters."
Epstein emphasizes that apocalypses aren’t just hypothetical—they’re happening now. "Detroit is covered in surveillance cameras, feeding data directly to the police and other unknown entities. The system is ostensibly meant to protect white residents while marginalizing Black communities. In that sense, an apocalypse has already occurred there. We don’t need to wait for one to happen in the distant future. Similarly, in the Gaza Strip, an apocalypse has already unfolded. It’s not some futuristic or biblical narrative—it’s our reality. In some places, it doesn’t exist, but in others, it’s happening now."
The world has always been unequal. Isn’t this about power, not technology?
"That’s true," Epstein acknowledges, "but today, we have individuals with resources on an unimaginable scale. Elon Musk is already the richest person in history, and with support from figures like Donald Trump, he’s on track to become the first trillionaire. Billionaires now encircle the planet with satellites, surveilling every aspect of our lives. Every thought we share through written communication is monitored by trillion-dollar corporations like Google, Meta, and Apple. These companies are developing artificial intelligence in collaboration with other corporations that build bombs and weapons systems. They wield powers akin to those attributed to gods—able to oversee everything from above while being directly linked to lethal weaponry."
If there’s a godlike power, then there’s also a heaven and a hell.
"American television and cinema are increasingly filled with end-of-the-world narratives. Despite our claims that we create technology to improve lives, foster happiness, and generate wealth, there’s a pervasive sense that we’re always on the brink—one step, two steps, maybe three—from destroying it all."
In any system riddled with problems, change becomes necessary. Technology won’t disappear, but we must learn to use it responsibly, recognize its dangers, and establish safety measures. This means dismantling overly concentrated power structures and introducing regulations. According to Epstein, such a reformation must come from skeptics and visionaries, not from fundamentalists or dogmatists. "The tech world must learn to respect its 'infidels,' heretics, and prophets."
"I’m not anti-religion or anti-technology," Epstein clarifies. "I believe in reforming both. You can’t disconnect from technology the way you can quit drugs. It’s more like addressing eating disorders—you can’t stop eating, but you need to change your approach to food. Similarly, we need to change our relationship with technology.
"We must use technology with hope, not fear. On a personal level, this means not using it out of fear of being unloved, unpopular, or unsuccessful. Instead, we should see it as a tool to connect with family, friends, and community or as a means to advance meaningful goals. Technology, like any other human creation, should serve us—not the other way around."
