- By Abdu Rafiu
The presumptive long-awaited control of our world by Artificial Intelligence, alias AI, indeed better known as AI, is already here. It has no particularly known address. It is capable of sneaking into private homes. And it could be found in the market place. It is everywhere. It is both sweet and reassuring. Its coming into our world can be beneficial and it could be awesome and devastating. It carries out assignments with precision and unbelievable speed, indeed the speed of light, yet its activities are frightening. That obsequiousness makes it even more frightening. It is available. It does not ask questions. It simply obeys. AI’s efficiency is unquestionable. When it cones and mimics voices it does so without flaws.
Those who know the secret of its inner workings carry themselves with the confidence and swollen headedness of a peacock. They can entreat Mr. AI to hit their enemies, real or perceived, it will do so with diligence, accuracy and appropriate measure of force. I am told it can fly an aircraft. Drones after all are its baby. It knows all the air corridors through which it can fly unscathed when it is in human form and unscratched when it puts on the toga of a machine. It can work without trace. It knows the exact distance between Pentagon and Tehran, between Israel’s Jerusalem and Damascus in Syria and between Kuwait Bay on the Persian Gulf and Baghdad in Iraq. I am also told that it is already driving buses. Its self- navigation capability, it is said, is proven. It is estimated that 33 million such vehicles will hit the road come 2040. It is so trusted that its masters are asking Mr. AI to rehearse, pick and read thoughts and get ready for Third World War. The people calling the shots in Washington, Jerusalem, Tehran, Kuwait, Lebanon and Baghdad have so much faith in it that it will deliver.
According to the University of Cincinnati studies, in the future there may be the emergence of AI-powered robots performing surgery, reducing human error and saving lives. Its capability and efficiency in administrative tasks such as test analysis and data entry or much more complicated procedures are already well-known. Smartphones use AI. Many will have encountered Mr. AI in customer service particularly in service industries. Financial houses and other enterprises are increasingly relying on it for speed and accuracy, and in checking fraud. The university lists nine major benefits of Mr. AI when it is sober, even including improved agriculture and mitigation of the climate change effects. AI is standing by to assist researchers in the treatments and cure for stubborn diseases that have plagued the human race for ages.
When Mr. AI gets angry, it can turn against its principals and devastate them. In a room, it can fetch glass to drink water, and wash it afterwards. It can move a book from the shelf in a library and deliver to the reader. The university says “AI is simply putting human intelligence into machine.” Ha! How that is done will probably not be a matter for the wraps much longer. However, our relief lies in the fact that despite its efficiency and precision and the fact that it can spring a surprise and answer questions on varied subjects intelligently; it cannot produce blood to run in its veins. Since human spirit does not inhabit it, constituting its core, it can never produce natural blood. Only a human spirit can generate blood.
Part of the negative ends that AI can be driven has manifested to the unwary with the coning of some of our iconic figures and leaders. Their purported enterprise promotions in videos and broadcasts as well as in writing like the example of former President Olusegun Obasanjo which was circulated last week. As it is in Nigeria, so it has been in the United States. Going by the supposed indictment of Donald Trump, by now the world would have seen his back– out of the Oval Office as President. With the experiences the minds of most people are familiar with it can’t but race to the Orwellian Age. The Age predicted as far back as 1952 and which was thought would descend from the firmament in 1984 is already here: Big Brother is watching you; Orwellian Thought Police alias AI is ubiquitous. AI is both Big Brother and Thought Police. Because A smartphones use AI, they can be hacked into and personalities scammed.
The fake AI-generated letter by former President Obasanjo purportedly to Nigerians reads in part as follows:
“My fellow Countrymen, people tell you that life is very long. @Live easily,’ they say. ‘There’s still plenty of time.’ I am ninety-four years old as I write these lines, and I say with complete certainty: that is not true. Life is not long: it is as brief as the blink of an eye. Now that I am about to leave this world, my heart wishes to entrust a few truths to you. I earned wealth, saw respect, built a name—but tonight all of it feels like dust lying in the corner of my room. If I stretch out my hand, nothing will go with me. The things I held close to my chest all my life now feel like sand slipping through my fingers.
“Before I go, I want to lighten my heart. Some things have remained buried inside me for seventy years. I do not want you to lie on a bed one day, remembering your past life, and feel a sting in your heart with every memory.
“The first truth: Stop living in the waiting room.
“A large part of my life passed in waiting. In school, I thought life would begin once I got my certificate. When I got a job in the Army, I waited for the weekend.
“After marriage, I waited for my children to grow up. When they grew up, I waited for retirement.
“I treated every present moment as just a phase, as if real life was waiting somewhere ahead. I kept staring at the distant horizon and never felt horizon and felt the ground beneath my feet. Today I understand… The journey itself is life—and instead of living it, I merely passed through it.
“I still remember a rainy Tuesday. I was thirty years old, sitting in my office, staring at the clock. Rain was pouring outside, and inside my heart was restless. I wanted time to pass quickly. I wanted to escape that day.
“Today, if someone asked me, I would give all my earnings to relive just that one day—the chair, the silence, the sound of rain against the glass, and the strength in my legs.
“Perhaps you are doing the same. You say, ‘I ‘ll feel peace when I have more money. My life will be complete when I find the right person.’ You are selling today in exchange for tomorrow—and tomorrow may never come.
“Do not waste your days like this. One day you will realize those ordinary days were the most precious.
“The second truth: Gold cannot be eaten.
“I spent fifty years building an empire. Long hours of work. Missed my children’s birthdays. Even during festivals, my mind was stuck at the office. I saw the waiting in my wife’s eyes and comforted myself by saying, ‘I’m doing this for them.”
“I bought a big house, an expensive car, fine clothes. I believed these things increased my worth, made me appear bigger in the eyes of others.
“Now that my departure is near, I realize none of it will go with me. The house will belong to someone else. The walls will be painted according to someone else’s taste. The car will end up in a junkyard. The money will remain just a number. Tonight, it cannot hold my hand or tell me not to be afraid.
“I remember a day when my daughter called me into the garden. She had found a tiny insect and wanted me to sit with her and watch it. There was joy in her eyes. I said, “Not now, I’m busy. I’m earning money.”
“She quietly turned away. The sadness in her eyes still burns my heart. I lost a precious moment with my daughter in exchange for a few paper notes.
“If you are exhausting yourself for a paycheck, pause. Your workplace will replace you quickly—but your home will never forget. Gather wealth of memories, not possessions.
“The third truth: Tear down the walls around your heart.
“When I was young, I thought I was strong. I never apologized first. I hesitated to speak what was in my heart. I believed that if a man softened, people would see him as weak. I rarely expressed love—perhaps afraid my image of toughness would break.
“I had a brother. We grew up together. Played in the same courtyard. Sat at the same table. Shared joys and sorrows. One day, we became upset over something trivial.
“Today, honestly, I do not even remember what it was. Maybe money. Maybe an argument. But at that time, I was certain I was right. I decided he would come first. Days passed, then months, then years. On every festival my heart wanted to pick up the phone –but ego stood in my way. I kept telling myself there was still time.
“One day the phone rang—but it wasn’t him. The news came that he had suffered a sudden stroke and passed away. I stood before his cold face, and my insistence on being right felt meaningless.
“I was right—but I was alone. Ten years of laughter, ten years of conversations, ten years of festivals—I had laid them all at the feet of ego. That day I understood: some relationships are saved not by logic, but by love. If you love someone, say it today. If you are wrong, apologize today. There is no promise of tomorrow.
“The real tragedy of life is not death; it is the dreams we kill while we are alive… Do not add to that silent treasure. Do not keep postponing the desire in your heart. Take a step. Even if you stumble. At least you will be able to say, ‘I tried.’
“You are still alive. You have another day. Do not waste it…Fill your breath. It is all a miracle. Do not wait until you are ninety-four to realize how beautiful life is. Feel it now. Live—not for me, but for truth. Live from the heart. Live fully for yourself. Live for your loved ones. Live now.
“Goodbye…”
When I contacted his very close aide and an activist, he said Obasanjo did not write any letter. In his words: “This text circulating on social media (Facebook, Nairaland and similar platforms) as his ‘latest memoires’ or ‘soul-shaking letter to Nigerians’ from a 94-year-old Obasanjo bidding farewell to life, is not authentic. It is a fabrication being shared widely in recent days, often with dramatic headlines implying he is nearing death or reflecting on his final days.” Obasanjo himself has blasted those he said were behind the fabricated letter. In his words: “They publish and circulate a fake paper credited to me that I am writing, giving notice of my death, pafuka. That is their wish and surely not God’s wish for me. God has assured me that He has more for me to do on earth, and He has given me the wherewithal to do it. And those who wish otherwise are going to be dealt with by God Himself. I dey kampe as usual.”
In any case, Obasanjo is not 94. He turned 89 only yesterday, Thursday. He was born on March 5, 1937. That was the first sign that the letter was fabricated. He could not have been lying against himself, saying he is 94 when he is 89. His reaction to the purported letter was at a colloquium on Wednesday as part of the events marking the birthday the following day.
All said, however, that the purported letter is an enrapturing philosophical thought. Why would the writer shy away from claiming authorship of such a touching admonition, which is for all of us, but in disguise primarily directed to Obasanjo seemingly urging him to slow down and invite himself more into contemplation.
Death is a touchy issue that is rarely discussed. A great many get irritated and put off if the subject is broached in their presence. Many others look in the opposite direction when approaching a cemetery and were they to suddenly meet a funeral procession in the street they change course and quickly efface every thought of it as quickly as possible. Whoever raises any subject relating to death is regarded as one who does not wish the other fellow well. He is in fact an enemy!
In my view, the letter in reference is a helpful awakening tonic for all of us to occasionally reflect on life. Who am I? Why am I here in this vale of matter? We can’t talk all the time about death, though, otherwise the fear of it, of the unknown who have no knowledge of it would hinder joyful living and achievement. What we should ask is: What is the Will of God in this, in what I am about to do? Is it right or is it wrong? We are expected to learn to recognize our inner voice, when our intuition speaks to us. And the ultimate question we will need to constantly ask in moments of reflection in our closets should be: Where does my path lead me after my sojourn on earth? It is a private question!
The bells toll for you as they toll for me! It is getting darker slowly, as those who preoccupy themselves in these times with the journey of man through Creation and what the purpose of life on earth is, are wont to say. The inevitable draws closer by the minute, by the hour and by the day. When all pomp and pageantry are over what’s next? The poor soul is left to journey alone in the world unseen, which yes unseen, but does exist—the Beyond.
If I were in the author’s shoes, I would have made the letter a private one. If, however, for whatever reason it must be an open one, the writer must own the authorship instead of ascribing it to the former President, Olusegun Obasanjo and purporting it to be a writing to Nigerians. That is cowardly and dishonourable. Yes, borne out of love, it cannot be expressed through cloning and summoning the backing of Mr. AI.
Where AI was clearly at work and even more daring was the purported broadcast by President Bola Tinubu on the IPOB leader, Nnamdi Kanu, that his release from jail was under consideration and imminent. The FOREX Online Trading displayed in Instagram as “being promoted” by our leading iconic businessmen was another handiwork of AI. One is a ranking politician and businessman. The other is a leading business mogul. The promotions to which they have purportedly lent their eminence individually by way of faces and voices are cleverly AI generated. Hardly, however, could it be dismissed by an uninitiated, or by their mere distant admirers, as a big scam. We can see what entrapment technology is weaving around us in the Age of AI—the good, the beautiful, the ugly and sometimes the reckless; the mind-boggling web!
The Guardian
