When I first heard about ChatGPT, a few weeks ago, I was fascinated. I knew it was only a matter of time before I tried it out for myself. 

The first time I connected with the website, though, I was at a bit of a loss. 

What questions should I ask? I had no idea. 

I’m not sure why I felt so intimidated. That was before the havoc caused by Bing.  

For the first time in our history, modern civilisation has found its very own oracle. 

Many societies, throughout history, have had oracles. There was the oracle of Delphi, called Pythia, who supposedly acted as the mouthpiece of the god Apollo. There was the oracle at Didyma in Asia Minor, near the city of Miletus. There were oracles at Abae in Persia, Menestheus in Greece, there was an oracle on the island of Ikaros, there were oracles in ancient Hawaii, India, China, etc. They were all over the place. 

Did they work, though? Did they speak the truth? Were they reliable? 

How does ChatGPT shape up compared to them? 

My first question to ChatGPT seemed like the obvious one to ask. 

I asked: “Can you describe yourself as an oracle?” 

I expected it to say something like, “No, I am not an oracle, I am a computer program, I do not make prophecies or predictions.” Something like that. 

The answer — quite a lengthy one, spewed out within a matter of seconds, surprised me. 

I quote ChatGPT:

“Yes, you can view me as a kind of oracle, in the sense that I am an AI (artificial intelligence) model designed to provide information and answer questions. I have been trained on a vast amount of text data and have been fine-tuned to provide accurate and helpful responses to a wide range of questions.” 

It went on for another few paragraphs, admitting its own shortcomings and warning that it might at times provide the wrong information. It also stressed the fact that it held no personal opinions and did not have any first-hand experience of life itself, etc, etc. 

All in all, a balanced and well-reasoned response. 

We were off to a flying start. I felt much more at ease. 

I also felt a vague sense of déjà vu, to be honest. 

I am not entirely new to the idea of questioning oracles, you see. Like many people I know, I have been consulting the I Ching, on a personal level, for a number of years. 

The I Ching, as many of you probably know, is a 3,000-year-old Chinese interactive text, consisting of 64 hexagrams. Confucius supposedly said that if he had another 100 years to live, he would spend 50 of them studying the I Ching. 

In other words, the I Ching is more than an oracle; it is, indeed, the oldest app known to man.

What also makes the I Ching different from other ancient oracles is that it never resided in a temple or on a mountaintop. Way back then, no one ever needed to travel far and wide in order to talk to it face to face. All one needed back then was a number of yarrow stalks, some short and some long, a bit of patience, and knowledge of the simple technique. 

These days, computers can simulate the random process of picking the right stalks in the right sequence. 

I have a copy of the I Ching app on my phone. It actually works. In the many years during which I had interacted with the I Ching on this app, it has given me a surprising number of meaningful and relevant answers. Even Carl Jung believed the I Ching to be the genuine article. 

So, immediately after reading ChatGPT’s response to my question, a thought sprang into my mind. 

A three-way conversation

Why don’t I ask ChatGPT and the I Ching the same questions? 

Why don’t I ask ChatGPT what it thought of the I Ching? And vice versa?

Why not engage in a three-way conversation? Myself, AI, and the I Ching?

Perhaps I should not have gone there. 

Anyway, I had no inkling of what to expect. And the first step was easy after all. 

I asked ChatGPT: 

“Is the I Ching a reliable oracle?” 

ChatGPT provided me with a detailed historical narrative of how the I Ching developed in ancient China, how people consulted it, wharra-wharra. 

It ended its summary with the rather vague and non-committal statement: 

“The reliability of the I Ching as an oracle is a matter of personal belief and interpretation. Some people view it as a valuable tool for divination and self-reflection, while others may consider it to be superstitious or lacking in scientific basis.” 

Okay, okay, fair enough. What it had spewed out, was just the usual narrative, gleaned from various sources on the internet.

Things started getting a bit more interesting when I asked the I Ching about ChatGPT. 

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(I used this free I Ching app which I consider to be one of the best modern translations I have ever come across.) 

I framed the question in a rather general way, and typed: 

“What are the future benefits and dangers of AI?” 

The answer popped up immediately. 

“Just as a clap of thunder brings a jolt to the sky, this hexagram signifies the imminence of a powerful jolt to one’s life. Expect a new event, person or idea to shake up your world. This could prove to be a wonderful wake-up call. Although a layer of fear may arise at the onset of the jolt, overall this is a time when fear will translate into excitement… New answers and new solutions will appear before you. Or perhaps they were there all along?” 

Good grief, I thought. 

The I Ching admitted that AI, and by implication ChatGPT, was a revolutionary development which would shake up the world.

But, my oh my, wasn’t there perhaps just a teeny hint of smugness in that last sentence? 

As if the I Ching wanted to ask the rhetorical question: “So what? Is this really all that new? Surely I can do better!” 

I should have stopped right there. 

But I didn’t. 

I decided to ask both of them a second question. 

As difficult, as controversial, as way-out a question as possible. 

It took me a while to think up the right question, but finally I found one. 

I asked: “Who killed Johannes Kerkorrel?” 

Perhaps I should emphasise at this point that I did not intend to approach this question in a frivolous way. Johannes Kerkorrel had been a close friend and colleague, and his death a few years ago left me devastated and bereaved. The common narrative in the media was that he had killed himself, though there were persistent rumours that he had been murdered. 

I was more than just curious to find out what the various oracles would say. I was desperate for answers. 

ChatGPT took ages to respond. About a minute and a half after I typed out the question, though, a very short reply popped out: 

“Johannes Kerkorrel (Johannes Kerkorrel) committed suicide on February 3, 2002.” 

ChatGPT knew about Kerkorrel, then. 

But it had gotten the date wrong. 

“Who killed Johannes Kerkorrel?” I asked the I Ching. 

Reading its reply, I was suddenly overcome with emotion. 

“This ominous hexagram symbolises heaven and Earth out of balance. Creative energies are flowing the wrong way, and little is accomplished… very little of value can be accomplished at this time… one who has risen to power… will become shamed. The shame will be a direct result of their climb to success, or will come about during their time at the top… is a time to be sincere and extremely honest with yourself…” 

I could not read any further. 

It was just too much to take in.

What the I Ching was doing was to describe, in unbelievable detail, the symptoms of depression and the loneliness experienced by a celebrity who felt that he had lost his creative impulses, who was overcome with guilt and self-pity, and who believed that he was at the end of his tether. 

If this was an attempt to tell me something about Kerkorrel’s state of mind before his death, it was probably spot-on. 

I was trembling with awe and a sense of tragic loss when I closed both apps.

I had certainly got more than I expected. 

ChatGPT had tried its best to be a helpful oracle, but it lacked the one thing which the I Ching could provide: actual context, empathy, respect and… yes… there was no other way to describe it: 

An almost human sense of sorrow. DM