Joe: Lewis, quick question. How many times do you think the average American opens their phone in a day? Lewis: Oh man. A lot. I’m almost afraid to guess. Maybe... a hundred times? Joe: Try 344 times. Once every four minutes. According to the book we’re talking about today, that's not just a habit. It's a ritual. A form of worship. Lewis: Three hundred and forty-four? That's insane. That’s more often than I breathe, probably. What kind of worship are we talking about? Joe: The most powerful kind. And that's the explosive core of the book we're diving into today: Tech Agnostic: How Technology Became the World’s Most Powerful Religion, and Why It Desperately Needs a Reformation, by Greg M. Epstein. Lewis: Epstein... isn't he the Humanist Chaplain at Harvard and MIT? That's a wild combination. A 'godless' chaplain at the heart of the tech world, writing about religion. Joe: Exactly. He says he went to MIT to serve secular students, only to find they already had a religion: Tech. And he argues this new faith didn't just appear out of nowhere. It rose to power through a very old, very strategic playbook. Lewis: A playbook? Okay, I'm hooked. Where does this story begin?

Joe: To understand how a new 'religion' takes over, Epstein points us to a fascinating moment in history: the early 4th century, with the Roman Emperor Constantine. Lewis: Constantine. The guy who made Christianity the official religion of Rome. I remember that from history class. Joe: Right, but Epstein frames it in a way I'd never heard before. It wasn't just a spiritual awakening. It was a pragmatic, almost corporate, decision. Constantine looked at his predecessors who worshipped a whole pantheon of gods and saw, in his words, "disappointing returns." Their gods hadn't saved them from unhappy ends. Lewis: Wait, so you're saying the rise of Christianity was like a hostile takeover based on better performance metrics? That's a spicy take. Joe: It's a powerful analogy. Constantine was convinced he needed "more powerful aid than his military forces could afford him." He was shopping for a new divine partner, one with better "operating power." He saw this emerging Christian god as a better 'value proposition.' So, before a decisive battle, he ordered his men to paint the Chi-Rho, an early Christian symbol, on their shields. Lewis: A rebrand, basically. Joe: A rebrand that worked. His rival made a fatal error, Constantine won, and the rest is history. A single, pragmatic choice for a more powerful belief system set Christianity on the path to becoming a dominant global force. Lewis: Okay, I can see the parallel you're drawing. So, tech giants are our new emperors, looking for the most powerful 'god' to back them? Joe: In a way, yes. The book argues that 'Tech'—with a capital T, meaning the all-encompassing industry and ideology, not just a tool—offers the ultimate value proposition today. It promises to solve everything: loneliness, inefficiency, disease, even death. Think of the grand pronouncements from tech leaders. OpenAI's CEO Sam Altman says, "abundance is our birthright." It's a promise of salvation. Lewis: And we've all bought into it. But is it really a religion? I mean, no one is literally praying to their iPhone... are they? Joe: This is where it gets interesting. Epstein argues it's about function. A religion provides a community, a moral code, rituals, and answers to life's biggest questions. What does Tech do? It gives us digital communities. It dictates our social values through algorithms. And it definitely has rituals. Lewis: The 344 phone checks a day. Joe: Exactly. And it has a theology. It has concepts of heaven—like uploading your consciousness to the cloud. It has prophets, like Ray Kurzweil predicting the Singularity. And it has a moral message that dominates our thoughts: the drive for optimization, for constant improvement. Lewis: That I feel. The pressure to be more productive, more connected, more... enough. Joe: Epstein has a powerful personal story about that. He calls it the 'gifted child' mentality, where your worth is tied to your accomplishments. One day, after a dizzying tech conference at MIT, he tapped his metro card to go home. The machine buzzed and flashed the words: "Not Enough Value." Lewis: Oof. Joe: For a split second, he said he honestly interpreted it as a judgment on his worth as a human being. That little machine, in that moment, was the voice of the tech religion telling him he wasn't measuring up. Lewis: Honestly, I feel that. That little buzz of rejection from a machine can hit surprisingly hard. It's a tiny thing, but it feels personal. It’s the modern version of being told you’re not pious enough. Joe: Precisely. And that's the power of this new faith. It's woven so deeply into our lives that its judgments feel like our own. But like any religion, this one has a dark side. It has its own version of hell.

Lewis: Okay, I get the power analogy. But a religion also has a dark side—damnation, hellfire... What's the 'hell' of the tech religion? Joe: This is maybe the most powerful idea in the book for me. Epstein quotes the critic Chris Gilliard, who says: "The tech apocalypse is already here; it’s just unevenly distributed." Lewis: Whoa. Say that again. Joe: "The tech apocalypse is already here; it’s just unevenly distributed." It means the dystopian future we fear from sci-fi movies isn't in the future. For many people, it's their present-day reality. Lewis: That's a powerful line. Can you give me a concrete example? Who is living in this 'apocalypse' right now? Joe: Epstein tells the story of Detroit's "Project Green Light." In 2016, the police partnered with gas stations to install high-definition surveillance cameras that fed directly to headquarters. Businesses that participated got a bright, flashing green light to display out front. Lewis: A signal that you're being watched. Sold as a sign of safety, I assume. Joe: Exactly. But activists on the ground, like Gilliard and Tawana Petty, argue it turned Detroit, a majority-Black city, into a "modern panopticon." It's constant surveillance and intimidation, often for the benefit of white outsiders and developers. This isn't some future threat; it's a system of control, built on a long history of racial injustice in that city, now supercharged by technology. Lewis: Wow. So while some of us are getting drone deliveries and enjoying the 'heaven' of tech convenience, others are living in a surveillance state. That's a chilling way to put it. Joe: And it's not just surveillance. The book talks about the hierarchies this religion creates. Writer Ijeoma Oluo calls tech a "white man's version of utopia," built on a myth of heroic founders that systematically devalues and endangers women and people of color. Lewis: I can see that. The 'cult of the founder' is a real thing. Joe: It is. And it hides the ugly foundation. Epstein highlights the research of historian Louis Hyman, who uncovered that the early computers from companies like Apple weren't built by 'robots building robots.' They were assembled by hand, in highly toxic conditions, primarily by women of color—often Asian and Latina immigrants. They were the 'ghosts in the machine,' the unseen lower caste of the tech hierarchy. Lewis: So the whole meritocracy narrative is a convenient myth to cover up exploitation. Joe: It's a powerful and convenient myth. And this brings us back to the rituals. That phone checking we talked about. How does that fit into the 'dark side'? It's not just about distraction; it's about addiction and control. Lewis: The dopamine loops. Joe: The dopamine loops. Chamath Palihapitiya, a former Facebook VP, famously admitted they created "short-term, dopamine-driven feedback loops" that are "destroying how society works." The book argues this isn't an accident. It's a feature designed to keep us hooked, to keep us performing the rituals of the tech faith, often to our own detriment. The anxiety and depression rates among teens have skyrocketed since the smartphone's arrival. Lewis: It's a religion that makes its followers miserable. That sounds like it's ripe for a rebellion. Joe: Exactly. And that's where Epstein offers a glimmer of hope. He argues this religion desperately needs a Reformation.

Lewis: A Reformation. Like Martin Luther nailing his theses to the church door. Who are the modern-day Luthers of tech? Joe: Epstein calls them 'apostates,' 'heretics,' and 'humanists.' These are the whistleblowers, the critics, and the activists who are challenging the tech religion's dogma. He tells the story of Veena Dubal, a law professor who exposed how gig companies like Uber and Lyft use algorithms and psychological tricks to exploit their drivers. Lewis: I remember that fight. The whole independent contractor versus employee debate. Joe: Right. Dubal became a leading voice for the drivers. But the pushback was brutal. She faced a coordinated smear campaign, doxing, and intense online vitriol. It's a high price to pay for heresy in the tech church. Lewis: So it's dangerous to question the faith. This is hopeful, but some reviewers have pointed out that the book's solutions can feel a bit... vague. They've called them 'toothless.' Is 'tech humanism' a real movement, or just a nice idea? Joe: That's a fair critique, and the book acknowledges it. The answer isn't a simple ten-step plan. The answer is a shift in mindset and a commitment to collective action. Epstein introduces 'tech humanism' as the positive alternative. He highlights people like Kate O'Neill, a writer who literally calls herself 'the tech humanist.' Lewis: What does that even mean in practice? Joe: O'Neill defines it beautifully. She says it's about "recognizing that we encode ourselves into machines; that what we automate will scale; that we need to be aware of what we encode and scale." It's a call for conscious, ethical design. It’s about asking not just "Can we build it?" but "Whose interest does it serve?" Lewis: I like that. It puts the responsibility back on us, the creators and users. Joe: And it's not just an idea. Joe points to organizations like 'All Tech Is Human,' which he describes as a new kind of 'congregation.' It's a community for people in the tech world who want to align their work with their values. They hold mixers, offer mentorship, and create a space for the very ethical reflection that the tech industry often discourages. It shows that people are actively trying to build this reformation from the ground up. Lewis: So it’s about finding your people, your fellow heretics. Joe: Exactly. It's about finding community and realizing you're not alone in your doubts. The book argues that the path forward is through what social work scholar Brené Brown calls 'daring vulnerability'—the courage to admit we don't have all the answers, to question the powerful, and to connect with each other on a human level.

Lewis: So, after all this, are we supposed to smash our phones and go live in the woods? Become tech atheists? Joe: No, and that's the beauty of the title: Tech Agnostic. It’s not about atheism or rejection. It’s about questioning the authority of this new religion. Epstein was inspired by the writer Lesley Hazleton, who described her own agnosticism as living life 'knifepoint up.' Lewis: 'Knifepoint up'? What does that mean? Joe: It means it's not a passive, wishy-washy stance. It's an active, sharp, and spirited delight in not knowing. It's rejecting dogma from any source, whether it's an ancient scripture or a CEO's keynote. The book's ultimate message is to be a human being first in a tech-first world. Lewis: I love that. It’s not about having the right answers, but about asking the right questions. Joe: Precisely. The reformation isn't about finding a new god; it's about finding our own humanity again. It's about remembering that tech doesn't fix things; people fix things. Lewis: That’s a powerful thought to end on. It makes you wonder, what are the unquestioned 'doctrines' in your own digital life? Joe: A question to ponder. Lewis: Indeed. This is Aibrary, signing off.