Machines aregrowing smarter, but the moral responsibility still belongs to us.
Dr. Ashraf Zainabi
The age of artificial intelligence has forced humanity to ask an old question in a new way: who needs guidance, and why? As algorithms increasingly decide who gets hired, who gets monitored, who receives loans, and even who lives or dies in war zones, the moral burden of decision-making is quietly shifting from humans to machines. Yet machines do not possess conscience. They do not feel guilt. They do not hesitate. This is where an ancient idea from the Qur’an offers an unexpectedly modern insight.
In Islamic thought, angels are described as beings who do not disobey God. They carry out commands without distortion, delay, or resistance. Because they cannot deviate, they do not need Prophets. Prophets, instead, are sent to humans—beings endowed with freedom, desire, fear, ambition, and the ability to justify their own wrongdoing. The distinction is not theological hair-splitting. It is a moral diagnosis of where guidance is necessary and where it is not.
Angels represent a category of existence where obedience is automatic. There is no internal conflict, no temptation to reinterpret instructions in self-serving ways. In modern terms, angels resemble perfectly aligned systems: mechanisms that execute tasks exactly as intended. Gravity does not need ethical training. Time does not need moral correction. They function as they are meant to.
Humans are different. Freedom makes them creative, but also dangerous. They can manipulate truth, normalise injustice, and turn exploitation into policy. History shows that human intelligence, when unrestrained by ethics, has repeatedly produced systems of oppression—often efficient, legal, and widely accepted at the time. This is precisely why Prophets appear, again and again, in human history: not when societies lack intelligence, but when they lose moral direction.
Artificial intelligence now occupies an uneasy space between these two worlds. Like angels, machines execute instructions without emotion or moral reflection. Like humans, however, they operate within social systems shaped by power, inequality, and bias. Unlike angels, they do not answer to a higher moral authority. They answer to their designers, their owners, and the incentives embedded in their code.
This is where the danger lies. AI does not make moral choices, but it enforces them at scale. A biased hiring algorithm does not hate anyone, yet it can systematically exclude entire communities. A surveillance system does not intend oppression, yet it can normalise constant monitoring and erode privacy. Autonomous weapons do not feel cruelty, yet they can kill with unmatched efficiency. The machine does not sin—but it multiplies the consequences of human decisions.
“Despite our scientific advancements, modern society risks repeating the historical mistake of prioritizing efficiency and digital power over ethical responsibility. Just as ancient prophets once challenged the corruption of their time, we face a familiar moral struggle in the digital age.”
Modern societies often treat technology as neutral. Algorithms are described as objective, data-driven, and free from human error. This belief mirrors a dangerous misunderstanding: confusing machines with angels. Angels, in Islamic thought, are morally safe because they cannot disobey. Machines are not morally safe because they inherit the values, assumptions, and blind spots of the humans who build them.
The real ethical crisis of AI is therefore not about machines becoming human. It is about humans surrendering responsibility. When decisions are outsourced to systems too complex to question, accountability dissolves. No one feels personally responsible for harm, because “the system” decided. This is a familiar pattern in history. Bureaucracies have long been used to distance individuals from the consequences of their actions. AI simply perfects this distancing.
The Qur’anic idea that Prophets are sent only where moral failure is possible offers a sharp warning for the present moment. Guidance is required not where power is absent, but where it is concentrated. Today, power increasingly resides in code—written by a small number of corporations and states, deployed across entire populations. Ethical oversight, however, lags far behind technological capability. There is also a deeper lesson here about human self-understanding. In the Qur’anic worldview, angels are superior in obedience, but humans are superior only when they choose justice freely. Human dignity lies not in intelligence alone, but in moral choice. AI challenges this dignity by performing tasks once associated with human judgment, without carrying human responsibility.
This does not mean technology must be rejected. It means it must be restrained. Just as earlier societies developed laws to limit political power, modern societies must develop ethical frameworks to limit algorithmic power. Transparency, accountability, and human oversight are not optional extras. They are moral necessities.
The irony is striking. At a time when humanity prides itself on unprecedented scientific progress, it risks repeating an ancient error: believing that efficiency can replace ethics. Prophets, in their own eras, confronted societies intoxicated with power—economic, political, or cultural. Today, power takes a digital form, but the moral challenge remains the same.
Angels need no Prophets because they cannot go wrong. Machines need ethics because they cannot tell right from wrong. Humans need guidance because they can justify anything. This simple hierarchy, articulated centuries ago, may be one of the clearest lenses through which to view the age of artificial intelligence.
Tailpiece: The question then is not whether machines will become moral. They will not. The real question is whether humans will remain so.
(The author is a teacher and a researcher based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora of Central Kashmir’s Budgam district. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
