Grief, a deeply personal and universal experience, is undergoing a transformation in the digital age. With the advent of artificial intelligence, memories once preserved in photo albums and letters now live on screens. Voices can be replayed, faces recreated, and for the first time, software can mimic the speech patterns of those who have passed away. As AI permeates every facet of daily life, it quietly enters one of humanity’s oldest struggles: confronting death.
Dr. Shisei Tei, a psychiatrist at Kyoto University, has spent years exploring this uneasy intersection. Despite his minimal use of technology—he doesn’t even own a smartphone—Tei relies on AI for his research, from sorting psychiatric data to planning hiking routes. His concern, however, lies in AI’s role in grief.
In a chapter for the book SecondDeath: Experiences of Death Across Technologies, Tei discusses how AI is reshaping grief and remembrance. He acknowledges that therapy chatbots could make mental health care more accessible, especially for those avoiding clinics or living in remote areas. Yet, he warns of hidden risks associated with other AI applications.
“AI-induced virtual continuations of the deceased can comfort the living and extend memory to some extent,” Tei says, “but they can also blur presence and absence, potentially hindering our capacity to accept impermanence.”
When Machines Shape Mourning
Throughout history, many cultures have viewed the mind and body as separate entities. This belief facilitated the idea of escaping death. Modern technology has inherited this dream, offering tools like brain scans, digital avatars, and memory archives, suggesting that parts of a person might live forever in data.
Tei, who grew up in Taiwan and now works in Japan, examines death through psychiatry, religious thought, and neurophenomenology—a science approach proposed by biologist Francisco Varela. This framework considers how the body, mind, and lived experience influence one another. Varela’s work, influenced by Tibetan Buddhism, introduced the concept of the “selfless self,” a guiding principle in Tei’s research.
Varela described living beings as systems that constantly recreate themselves, much like cells in an organ, where each part depends on others. Tei explains that this perspective alters our understanding of identity.
“Selfless selves refers to being both altruistic and autonomous, maintaining one’s individuality while remaining in harmony with others and the wider world,” he says.
In this view, identity is not a sealed unit but shaped by relationships, culture, work, love, and loss. When someone dies, their story continues within others, making memory a shared property rather than a private possession.
Tei notes that AI mirrors this concept. Online, people exist through usernames, posts, and photos, appearing in fragments across networks. AI systems also exhibit an identity without a “self” as humans understand it. They respond, remember, and generate language, yet they do not experience emotions or the passage of time. This distinction is crucial.
The Cost of Quick Answers
Tei expresses concern that an overreliance on software may narrow emotional experiences. Computers excel at providing fixed choices and clean outputs, but death does not conform to such simplicity. Grief is chaotic and fragmented, often leaving people searching for answers that no system can provide.
“Outsourcing decision-making or emotional support to machines risks weakening the very wisdom we aim to cultivate,” Tei warns. “When sadness is reduced to prompts and replies, suffering can appear as a problem to solve rather than a wound to feel.”
He emphasizes the importance of shared silence and unspoken signals—moments that machines cannot replicate. A comforting hand squeeze, a long pause after bad news, or a meaningful look can convey empathy and connect people when words fall short.
Tei also highlights that loneliness is not always an adversary. Solitude can foster reflection, and grief forces individuals to confront uncertainty. In this quiet space, many discover inner strength they never knew they possessed.
Learning to Live With Death
Tei argues that death should not be treated as a glitch to fix; it is an integral part of life from the moment it begins. In his writings, he encourages families, doctors, and communities to engage in open conversations about dying. He believes the concept of the selfless self can guide end-of-life care, emphasizing the human aspect over the purely medical.
“Death becomes certain once life begins,” Tei writes in the book, “and denying its anticipation risks denying life itself.”
Rather than chasing digital immortality, he advocates for embracing shared experiences—stories, touch, and presence—that shape how death feels and how life is valued.
AI will undoubtedly continue to evolve, but Tei does not call for its rejection. Instead, he seeks balance, using these tools himself while reminding us that no machine can replace the fragile, moving truth of being alive.
Practical Implications of the Research
This research challenges society’s use of AI in mental health and grief support, urging therapy designers to create tools that complement, rather than replace, human care. Families may reconsider using chatbots that simulate deceased loved ones if they hinder healthy mourning. Hospitals and caregivers could adopt the idea of “selfless selves” to prioritize emotional bonds in end-of-life care, beyond just physical comfort.
For the average person, the message is clear: while LED screens can store memories, only people can carry meaning. Recognizing this may lead to healthier grieving and deeper connections.
Research findings are available online in the journal Springer Nature.
