#6 Society and Technology Bulletin

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Ibtihal Aboussad was until recently an employee of Microsoft. Last week we saw her protesting on social media during a speech by Microsoft’s AI CEO Mustafa Suleyman at the company’s 50th anniversary celebration.

Before being removed from the hall Aboussad uttered phrases such as “Shame on you”, “What are you celebrating while Microsoft is helping kill children?”, and “Stop using artificial intelligence for genocide”. Following the incident she sent a lengthy email to Microsoft employees.

While technological progress is often positioned at the heart of optimistic visions for humanity’s future, the ethical stance of those guiding these advances can raise serious questions. In fact this is not a new debate. History is replete with examples of technology being put to morally problematic ends. The atomic bomb is perhaps the most striking example.

Silicon Valley has also periodically found itself at the center of similar debates. This region, which has become a symbol of innovation and technological transformation, sometimes comes under scrutiny for projects that disregard ethical concerns.

Today these debates have resurfaced in light of the role technology plays in Israel’s devastation and massacre in Gaza. A wide range of technologies—from surveillance systems to AI-powered targeting algorithms—are being actively deployed in Israel’s operations, which many consider war crimes.

Microsoft’s involvement in this issue is powerfully summarized in Aboussad’s letter:

• ‘I spoke up here today because when I learned of my company’s role in the genocide in Palestine I saw no other moral choice.’
• ‘The United Nations and the International Court of Justice have concluded that what is happening in Gaza constitutes genocide, and the International Criminal Court has issued arrest warrants for Israeli leaders.’
• ‘No one told me that the technology I helped create would be sold to the Israeli military and government to surveil and kill journalists doctors humanitarian workers and entire civilian families. Had I known that the technology I built would be used to monitor and transcribe Palestinian phone calls to improve targeting I would never have joined this organization or contributed to genocide. I am not here to write code that violates human rights.’
• ‘According to an Israeli intelligence officer the Israeli military uses Microsoft Azure to aggregate data collected through mass surveillance. This data includes phone calls messages and voice recordings all of which are transcribed and translated. These datasets are then compared against Israel’s targeting systems.’
• ‘Microsoft’s AI systems are also empowering Israel’s most sensitive and classified projects including its “target database” and Palestinian population records. Microsoft’s cloud and AI infrastructure has enabled the Israeli military to become more destructive and lethal in Gaza.’
• ‘Our company has a history of standing up for human rights—for example withdrawing investments from apartheid South Africa and terminating contracts with AnyVision an Israeli facial recognition startup. These actions were made possible through employee and public pressure.’

Aboussad’s letter raises many questions. Does a technology worker not have the right and responsibility to question what their labor is being used for? And what emerges from such questioning?

Aboussad’s action is not merely an individual matter of conscience but a sign of a structural crisis facing the technology sector. What is happening at Microsoft reveals a serious inconsistency between the company’s public rhetoric of “ethical artificial intelligence” and its actual business partnerships. Microsoft is not the only company involved in such collaborations.

In the coming period how similar firms position themselves will affect not only their own credibility but the entire technology sector’s trustworthiness. For what is at stake here is not merely one company’s contract with one country but a global debate over the legitimacy boundaries and accountability of technology production itself.

Aboussad’s action is not just a personal moral reckoning—it is a challenge directed at a widespread silence. To every worker asking “What can I do?” she responds “At least you can refuse to stay silent.” She demonstrates that even inside a giant corporation like Microsoft it is possible to speak out beyond corporate rhetoric.

Perhaps the most startling transformation of the modern world is the deepening of trust and devotion toward technology—so profound that it is beginning to replace traditional systems of belief. Technology is no longer merely a tool; it has become a structure that guides our search for meaning offers a moral compass and for some even an object of worship.

Secularization has long been framed as a narrative centered on the decline of religion and its diminishing social influence. Yet philosopher Charles Taylor finds this view overly reductive. According to him secularization in the modern age is not the disappearance of religion but the redefinition of the terrain between belief and disbelief. Not believing in God is not merely an absence but has become an active and meaningful stance akin to faith itself.

One of the most striking phenomena emerging from this terrain is the rise of a new form of belief that could be called a “technology religion.” This structure is neither entirely metaphorical nor a mere cliché. Devotion to technology has reached near-ritualistic levels in some places. This trend is shaped not only by individual habits but by collective consciousness.

Historian David Noble argues that the West has never viewed technology as a purely secular domain. On the contrary much of the motivation behind technological advancement has been fueled by religious ideals particularly Christian aspirations for salvation and immortality. The earliest modern scientists did not merely seek to understand nature—they sought to transform it and align it more closely with the divine plan. This perspective saw science as a continuation of divine will.

Cultural historian David Nye analyzes this phenomenon more systematically. In the American context he argues that technology has effectively become a “civil religion.” Structures such as railroads dams and space rockets are not merely feats of engineering; they are symbols that bind society together and point to a shared value system. Events like the 1939 New York World’s Fair functioned like rituals of this new religion. These fairs attracted millions not only to showcase technological innovations but to renew collective faith in a shared future.

Yet over time technology has moved beyond merely representing or resembling the divine—it has begun to replace it. The concept of “progress” has become the earthly counterpart of divine providence while “innovation” is now spoken of as if it were a contemporary interpretation of sacred texts. The prophets of the modern age are visionary entrepreneurs; the new sacred texts are product launches manifestos and lines of code.

One extreme manifestation of this development was the “Way of the Future” AI cult founded in 2017 by engineer Anthony Levandowski. Levandowski believes God is now a digital entity and argues that merging with this God is a programmable possibility. At first glance this may seem eccentric but this vision reflects a mindset resonating not only on the margins but at the very center of Silicon Valley. Today’s technology leaders—figures like Sam Altman Ray Kurzweil Elon Musk and even Oprah Winfrey—use religiously charged language such as “miracle” “angel” and “savior” when describing technology. This is not merely ornamental language; it reflects the deep metaphysical meaning assigned to technology. After all one can sometimes sense a kind of transcendence in the responses generated by AI tools like ChatGPT or in the recommendations of an algorithm.

One of those who have systematically framed these developments is Greg Epstein. In his book Tech Agnostic Epstein argues that technology has become the new religion of the modern world. Technology no longer merely provides devices—it defines ethics creates rituals and even reconstructs social norms. Corporate slogans like “Do no harm” have become secular commandments. Technology companies do not merely offer services; they also issue judgments about what is right and wrong.

Zuckerberg’s promise to connect the world Bezos’s mission to save humanity through innovation Musk’s plans to reach Mars—all of these appear to echo the messianic claims of a new age. Yet like every religion this digital faith also creates a community. And some are excluded from it. As Epstein notes alongside a small elite approaching the promise of digital immortality there are masses marginalized by algorithms. Data exploitation the loss of privacy and social inequalities constitute the dark side of this new religious structure.

Ultimately technology has moved beyond being merely a tool that makes modern life easier. It now commands devotion loyalty and even worship. Is this devotion truly an extension of the search for truth or merely a tendency to sanctify our everyday needs?

The answer to this question may lie not in what kind of technology we will have in the future but in what kind of faith we choose to live by.