Online Reporter
Dr Evans Sagomba – Everything AI
ARTIFICIAL Intelligence (AI) has crept into our lives in ways we could scarcely have imagined a decade ago.
At first, it was about convenience, helping us draft emails, summarise reports, or translate languages.
But now, AI is moving into far more intimate territory. It is no longer just a tool; it is becoming a companion, a confidant, even a substitute for human relationships.
And perhaps most unsettling of all, it is beginning to offer us the illusion of bringing back the dead.
This phenomenon, dubbed: “AI resurrection,” is powered by griefbots, digital avatars designed to mimic the voice, appearance, and personality of loved ones who have passed away.
The idea is simple, but profoundly disorienting: record a short video while alive, and when you die, your family can continue to interact with your AI-generated self.
A grandmother’s voice, a father’s advice, a friend’s jokes, all simulated by algorithms long after the person is gone. At first glance, it may sound comforting.
Who wouldn’t want to hear their mother’s voice again, or receive encouragement from a departed mentor? But beneath the surface lies a tangle of ethical, cultural, and psychological dilemmas that societies like Zimbabwe must confront head-on.
What happens to the grieving process then?
For thousands of years, human beings have relied on rituals of mourning to make sense of death. Funerals, memorials, and collective grieving are not just cultural practices; they are psychological necessities. They help us accept mortality, honour the departed, and move forward with life.
AI resurrection interferes with this natural process. Instead of accepting that someone is gone, griefbots create the illusion that they are still present. The grandmother’s hugs, her smell, her physical presence, all irreplaceable, are reduced to a digital avatar. The danger is that people may cling to these simulations, delaying or even denying the reality of loss.
In Zimbabwe, where funerals are deeply communal events, and mourning is woven into the fabric of family and village life, this interference could be particularly disruptive. Our traditions emphasise closure, respect, and collective remembrance. What happens when technology tempts us to bypass closure altogether?
There is also the question of truth. An AI avatar may look and sound like the deceased, but it is not them. It is a machine-generated approximation, built on data and algorithms. Should we build relationships on what is essentially a lie? Imagine a child growing up speaking daily to an AI version of his late father. The avatar may offer advice, encouragement, or even discipline. But none of it is truly the father’s. It is a projection, a simulation. Is it ethical to attribute statements and behaviours to someone who never actually said or did them?
Zimbabwean society, like many others, values authenticity. Our elders’ words carry weight precisely because they are rooted in lived experience. To replace that with machine-generated approximations risks eroding the very meaning of wisdom and heritage.
Exploitation and manipulation
Beyond the psychological and ethical concerns lies the risk of exploitation. Companies offering AI resurrection services are not charities; they are businesses. And businesses thrive on dependency. Imagine being told that unless you pay a monthly subscription, you will lose access to your grandmother’s avatar. The emotional leverage is immense. In Zimbabwe, where economic hardship already places immense strain on families, such manipulative practices could be devastating. People may prioritise paying for digital access to deceased loved ones over more pressing needs like food, school fees, or healthcare. The grief industry could become a new form of exploitation, preying on vulnerability and cultural attachment to family bonds.
Within Zimbabwe’s own cultural and social landscape. Death here is not just a private matter; it is a communal event. Funerals often draw hundreds of people, with rituals that reaffirm collective identity and continuity. Ancestors are revered, and their memory is preserved through oral tradition, storytelling, and ritual practices.
AI resurrection risks distorting this balance. Instead of remembering ancestors through stories and rituals, people may turn to digital avatars.
Instead of passing down wisdom through oral tradition, families may rely on machine-generated voices. This could weaken the intergenerational bonds that have sustained Zimbabwean society for centuries. Should companies be allowed to digitise and monetise our ancestors? Should the likeness of a deceased Zimbabwean be treated as intellectual property, subject to corporate control?
Let us be clear: the comfort offered by AI resurrection is an illusion. It may soothe in the short term, but it does not heal. True healing comes from acceptance, from facing the reality of loss, from finding meaning in the absence. To pretend that the deceased are “forever alive” through digital avatars is to deny the very essence of mortality. And mortality matters. It is what gives life urgency, meaning, and depth. If we erase death, or pretend to erase it, we risk eroding our understanding of what it means to live.
The rise of griefbots offers us a glimpse into the future of AI. It shows us that the most profound challenges will not be technical, but ethical and cultural. The question is not whether machines can simulate human presence; they already can. The question is whether we should allow them to, and under what conditions. For Zimbabwe, this is a moment of choice. We can either adopt these technologies uncritically, allowing them to reshape our grieving practices and cultural traditions, or we can engage in deliberate, principled debate about their place in our society.
Let us guard our humanity
AI resurrection is here. It is not science fiction; it is reality. And it forces us to confront the deepest questions of existence: life, death, memory, and meaning. For Zimbabwe, the challenge is clear. We must guard against the erosion of our grieving traditions, the exploitation of our vulnerabilities, and the reduction of our ancestors to digital avatars. We must insist on authenticity, accountability, and cultural sovereignty.
Technology can be a powerful ally, but only if we remain engaged, deliberate, and principled. The future of grief, memory, and human dignity depends not on machines, but on our choices. Will we allow convenience to distort mourning? Or will we harness technology responsibly, preserving the depth of our humanity? The answer will define not just how we grieve, but how we live, how we remember, and ultimately, how we remain Zimbabwean.
About the Author: Dr Evans Sagomba is a Doctor of Philosophy and Chartered Marketer (CMktr, FCIM) with an MPhil and PhD in Philosophy. He specialises in AI, Ethics, and Policy Research, and is an AI Governance and Policy Consultant. His expertise extends to the Ethics of War and Peace, Philosophy of Development, and Political Philosophy. [email protected]. ORCID: 0009-0007-0681-0329. Social media handles; LinkedIn; @ Dr. Evans Sagomba (MSc Marketing)(FCIM )(MPhil) (PhD) X: @esagomba
