By Michael Waas

In today's world, digital technologies are advancing at an increasing rate. As computer processors and chips become more powerful and programs are developed to take advantage of their increased speed and power, the possibilities are endless. With these technologies, advances in heritage and genealogy have been made that were unimaginable even twenty years ago.From being able to digitize and create 3D models using a digital camera or even an iPad, to teaching computers how to read centuries-old handwritten documents and make them searchable (such as with programs like Tranksribus), digital technology offers a whole new world in which to engage with personal and built heritage.

Despite the incredible advances these digital technologies have given us, there is also a darker side that threatens to make our ancestors nothing more than marionettes dancing on a computer screen . In recent years, several companies have started to provide services that enable them to record individuals and use artificial intelligence to develop an avatar that can interact with users and "learn” to converse. Other companies have used AI to make a photograph into an animated video that follows a pre-programmed series of movements, making it seem as if the person is in front of you and glancing all around as they wait for their portrait to be taken. When one looks at a single such animation in isolation, it may seem lifelike. However, if you consider the infinite number of photographs, each of which repeats the same, mindless series of mechanical movements, it becomes deeply unnerving. When these programs use artificial intelligence to assign a procedurally generated voice to an ancestor, it becomes even more disturbing.

This is not meant to target any particular brand or company, but rather to highlight a trend that has gained momentum in recent years. I genuinely believe that these programs are developed in response to what companies perceive the market to want. And in fact, some people do find it intriguing and even thrilling to watch AI turn our ancestors from static portraits into versions that appear to come to life on our screens.

I am here to make the case for Heritage.

Looking at an old family album. Photo by Laura Fuhrman on Unsplash

The late historian David Lowenthal writes in his 2005 article “Natural and cultural heritage” that “Heritage denotes everything we suppose has been handed down to us from the past.” The image above of a family looking through an old photo album exemplifies this concept in a tangible way. The very act of holding family heirlooms such as this in your hands is itself an heirloom, an act which has been passed down from generation to generation. And although we may never have met the people in the albums, they played a significant role in the lives of our ancestors and in their world. In these images, we see the faces of our ancestors and their families long after they have passed into dust, and we discover anew in our time little bits and pieces of their world through their photos, albums, diaries, manuscripts, and documents.

For me, heritage is about how we engage with the past and how we tell the stories of those who came before us to the generations yet to come. The past is never dead; it lives on in all of us. There is something vital and timeless about this idea in that, even after our ancestors and loved ones are gone, we are able to keep their memories and stories alive by passing them on to the next generation. So it should come as no surprise that I believe that using AI to recreate their voices, alter their images, or recreate their thoughts would serve instead to remove their souls and voices and replace them with cheap imitations. It is the ultimate nihilistic conclusion to the processes of collecting names that can occur in the course of genealogy. My late great uncle told me a story of my great-great-grandfather; When my great-great grandfather asked him if he would come to America, my great great great grandfather replied that no, he wouldn’t because “the stones were too uncivilized”.

To me, using AI to recreate their voices, their images, or their thoughts removes our ancestors’ souls and their voices and in fact is the ultimate, nihilistic end of name collecting that can so often be a part of genealogy and heritage. My great-great grandfather, as told to me by my late great-uncle, is reputed to have told my great-grandfather when asked if he would come to America, that no, he wouldn’t because the stones were “too uncivilized”.

I don’t want a computer to approximate their voices and likenesses and have them repeat that story at me. I want that story to be passed down and become embellished and mythified. What makes genealogy so meaningful is that exploring the past through the micro-histories of our families and their journeys allows us to see the world for all of its complexity. We see that our ancestors were people like us, with hopes and dreams, with mistakes and failings. That they aren’t puppets guided by a computer’s idea of their humanity, but rather that they were individuals, with souls and their own unique voices, that time leaves bits and pieces to be passed down to us.

Man in kilt with stickered suitcase inside of the Budapest Jewish Museum. — An unexpected traveler in the Budapest Jewish Museum (photo taken by author).

In summary, this is not a case of the “Old Man Yells at Cloud” meme. AI can do wonderful things and make our collective and personal heritage more accessible. Instead, this is simply a personal reflection on the ethics of using AI to ‘breathe life’ into our ancestors’ portraits or to machine learn our loved ones’ thoughts into a video or hologram that we can interact with after their deaths. This is an argument for heritage and not its commodification. It is an argument that we should reflect on our past thoughtfully and critically, while being reflexive and knowing that we are only one generation in a long line of generations who have used and will use the past to tell the story of their present. This is an argument for Heritage.