Grief in the modern age is evolving, shaped by the pervasive influence of technology. Memories once cherished in physical photo albums and heartfelt letters now reside on digital screens. Voices of loved ones can be replayed, and faces re-created through artificial intelligence. As AI becomes an integral part of daily life, it also quietly infiltrates one of humanity’s most profound experiences: coping with death.
Dr. Shisei Tei, a psychiatrist at Kyoto University, has dedicated years to studying this delicate intersection. Despite his minimal use of technology—he doesn’t even own a smartphone—Tei leverages AI in his research to sort psychiatric data and plan hiking routes. However, he remains cautious about the implications of AI in the realm of grief.
In his chapter for the book SecondDeath: Experiences of Death Across Technologies, Tei explores the ways AI reframes grief and remembrance. He acknowledges the potential for therapy chatbots to make mental health care more accessible, especially for those who avoid clinics or live in remote areas. Yet, he warns of the hidden risks associated with AI-induced virtual continuations of the deceased.
“AI-induced virtual continuations of the deceased can comfort the living and extend memory to some extent, but they can also blur presence and absence, potentially hindering our capacity to accept impermanence,” Tei states.
When Machines Shape Mourning
Throughout history, many cultures have viewed the mind and body as separate entities, with the body perishing and the mind continuing. This belief has facilitated societal imaginings of escaping death. Modern technology has inherited and expanded upon this dream, offering tools like brain scans, digital avatars, and memory archives that promise aspects of a person might live on in data.
Tei, originally from Taiwan and now working in Japan, examines death through the lenses of 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, drawing inspiration from Tibetan Buddhism. A guiding concept in Tei’s work is the “selfless self.”
“Selfless selves refers to being both altruistic and autonomous, maintaining one’s individuality while remaining in harmony with others and the wider world,” Tei explains.
This perspective suggests that individuals are not isolated units but are shaped by relationships, culture, work, love, and loss. When someone dies, their story continues within others, transforming memory into a shared rather than private possession.
The Cost of Quick Answers
Tei expresses concern that an overreliance on software could narrow emotional experiences. Computers excel at providing fixed choices and clean outputs, but grief defies such simplicity. It is a confusing process where meaning can disintegrate, and individuals seek 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—elements machines cannot replicate. A comforting hand squeeze, a long pause after receiving bad news, or a meaningful look can convey more than words. These moments foster empathy and connect people when language falls short.
Tei also highlights that loneliness is not always an adversary. Time spent alone can encourage reflection, and grief forces individuals to confront uncertainty. In this solitude, many discover inner strength they were previously unaware of.
Learning to Live With Death
Tei advocates for viewing death not as a glitch to be fixed but as an integral part of life from its inception. In his writings, he urges families, medical professionals, and communities to engage in open discussions about dying. He believes the concept of the selfless self can guide end-of-life care, emphasizing the human aspect over mere medical intervention.
“Death becomes certain once life begins, and denying its anticipation risks denying life itself,” Tei writes in the book.
Rather than pursuing digital immortality, Tei encourages embracing shared experiences, stories, touch, and presence. These elements shape perceptions of death and enhance the value of life.
While AI will continue to evolve, Tei does not advocate for its rejection. Instead, he calls for balance. He uses these tools himself but hopes people remember that no machine can replace the fragile, moving truth of being alive.
Practical Implications of the Research
This research challenges societal approaches to using AI in mental health and grief support, urging therapy designers to create tools that complement, rather than replace, human care. Families might reconsider using chatbots that simulate deceased loved ones if these tools 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.
