Just recently, a news organization published an “exclusive” of a photograph well over three decades old, of an alleged war criminal long thought to be dead. The face was distinct, the eyes were bright, and his countenance—now expressive and emotional on tape—seemed to have just been taken. Except it wasn’t there. AI erased the scratches, brought the face to life, and infused it with human emotion on a dead visage. Just like that, history was manipulated, and the public was misled. The tools are powerful, yes—but we’ve built a monster that’s devouring truth.

I can’t help but feel that we’ve wandered into a dangerous jungle, where even the light that filters through the trees can no longer be trusted. It’s not that we don’t know what’s real anymore—it’s that reality itself is now an illusion game, ready to be edited and revised. A lost photograph has carried a tale in silence, a whispered clue of the past. Now the same photograph can smile, wink, cry, or offer dialogue in perfect meter, all thanks to an algorithm. What was sacred once—the authenticity of a grasped moment—is now the raw material that digital puppeteers play with.

Deception used to require getting dressed up and going into a room to deceive. Now lies can be constructed out of pixels and vomited onto the world in two seconds. One manipulated video is all it takes to ruin a career, justify a war, or get a country worked into a lather. The avalanche of trust is no longer incremental; it’s a snowball effect. The occasional prank has now become an everyday show, complete with filters, captions, and manufactured charisma. The line between fiction and reality has grown so blurry that even the brightest of eyes are beginning to blink.

I know people who brush this off as mere innocence, cyber sorcery that brings back old memories, or entertains with artificially created nostalgia. Nostalgia falls short when crafted by cold calculation. When a machine causes your deceased grandmother to blink and smile in a film you never directed, is it really her, or is it a comforting lie—one you consent to believe because it makes you feel good? We’re no longer being manipulated; we’re manipulating ourselves. The lying is not only ubiquitous—it’s irresistible.

Worst of all, these technologies are not just limited to the artistic or emotional plane. They’re now instruments of politics, used to plant doubt, confusion, and division. Deepfake videos of politicians spouting lies go viral before their denials do. Edited words in courtrooms, impersonated voices in phone scams, cloned faces in pornography—all courtesy of AI—are crimes disguised as smooth tricks. And while we talk about the ethics aspect, the damage just keeps piling up. We are in slow motion, but tech is moving fast. And lies, when they go viral in the wild, do not wait for laws to catch up.

Even journalists, whose job is to pursue the truth, are left grasping for breath in this melee. The question is no longer what is occurring but whether it occurred at all. Sourcing has become a matter of forensic-grade detail. Anything that escapes must be questioned like a suspect. And in the exhausting quest for evidence, many just abandon the effort and convince themselves to believe what they desire—facts be damned. AI hasn’t merely added noise; it’s made fact a luxury.

And yet, the irony is rich: the same wit that builds illusions can also see them. AI can detect contradictions, feel fake patterns, and watermark reality in micro-fashion. But this armor is still but a whisper to the din of deception. We require more than machines; we require a culture that cherishes reality rather than spectacle. Else, we’ll be living in a world where vision is no longer truth, and truth is whatever is convenient to believe now. A world where truth, as we understood it, becomes the final casualty of our so-called sophistication.
All that we can do, at least for now, is to cultivate a suspicious habit without being paranoid. To learn ourselves, and more importantly, the younger generation, about the dangers of false truths. To call tech creators to account, the media, and ourselves. Truth may be on the ropes, but it’s not quite dead yet. It’s alive in critical questioning, in ethical reporting, and in the human desire to know, not what appears to be real, but what is real. We have to make that choice each day to preserve that.

THAT gospel episode where Christ appointed 72 other disciples and sent them to places where Christ intended to visit (cfr. Lk 10,1-12.17-20) reminds us that if we too consider ourselves as disciples of Christ, we should also realize that this commissioning is also addressed to us.

We need to give utmost attention to this task because first of all, as disciples of Christ, we cannot help but also get involved in the continuing work of human redemption of Christ. He is practically begging us to do so, especially when he said: “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.”

That’s because if we are truly Christians, we should be involved in Christ’s mission here on earth. Christ’s mission and concerns should also be ours. We have to realize that Christ treats us the way he treats himself precisely because we are patterned after him.

That’s also why we have been endowed with intelligence and will which, together always with God’s grace, would enable us to know and love others the way Christ loves all of us. And in this regard, we know that Christ’s love goes all the way to offering his life for us. That’s how we should love one another. That’s how we as disciples of his should be willing to love everybody, including our enemies.

In that gospel episode, Christ told his disciples of what they should only bring along, as well as the difficulties and dangers they should expect along the way. “I am sending you like lambs among wolves. Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals,” he said, somehow making them to understand that he would take care of whatever conditions they might find themselves in pursuing this task.

Yes, there would be suffering, but in the end, Christ would know how to turn everything negative into something constructive and redemptive. He was implying that he would be sharing his powers with them. As it turned out, the disciples where amazed at what they accomplished. “Lord, even the demons are subject to us because of your name,” they said.
We have to realize more sharply that we need to be burning with zeal in carrying out our apostolic duty. That’s because the apostolic panorama and challenge is getting increasingly tremendous and complicated. Yes, we should always ask for God’s grace to fulfill this duty, but we need to acquire the appropriate attitudes and skills as well.

Nowadays, with all the absorbing developments around, it is very easy for us to think that we are doing many things when, in fact, we are falling into the deceptive dynamics of self-indulgence.

We have to be most wary of this danger that is clearly becoming widespread. Self-indulgence is a constant threat, especially these days when good and evil are so mixed up that we would mostly likely be left confused and easily taken by sweet poisons that today’s new things readily offer.

We need to be very discriminating in dealing with these new developments, knowing how to discern what is good and useful for the apostolate from what can simply be a distraction which can appear to us also as something useful. The ways of evil usually assume the appearance of some good.

Thus, we should try to come out with a concrete apostolic plan everyday, so that however things go during the day, we can have clear apostolic goal to pursue, and thus fulfill the task Christ is entrusting us.