Local opinion: The right to become someone new

Recently, a notification from ChatGPT appeared on my screen announcing an improvement to its memory. “ChatGPT is now better at keeping memory up to date,” it said, explaining that this would allow it to offer “more relevant, personalized replies.”

I use artificial intelligence regularly in my work, so I can appreciate its convenience. If I tell it that I prefer a certain writing style, I would rather not have to repeat myself each time. If it remembers my interests and preferences, its answers can be more useful.

But the notification made me think about the other side of memory: What happens when something remembers a version of us that no longer exists?

The Wall Street Journal reported on this emerging problem. One man had told an AI chatbot (or LLM) that he was going through a divorce. Long afterward, the chatbot continued bringing up his divorce when he asked about unrelated subjects, from his schedule to problems at work. Another user mentioned that he was trying to lose weight, only for the chatbot to bring up his diet when he was looking for restaurants while on vacation.

The information wasn’t necessarily wrong. The problem was assuming that because something was true about a person yesterday, it must define him today. Human beings don’t work that way.

Our lives are filled with change. We change jobs, take up new hobbies, and enter new stages of life. Our priorities evolve. Even our most ordinary preferences aren’t fixed. We may love a certain food, book, or destination at one stage of life and lose interest in it at another. We accept these changes without giving them much thought. Why should we assume that the deeper parts of a person must remain frozen in place?

This idea has been on my mind as we approach Elul, the Hebrew month leading up to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It is traditionally a time for introspection and teshuvah, commonly translated as repentance but more literally meaning “return.”

Judaism certainly doesn’t advocate deleting our history. Teshuvah requires taking an honest look at the past. We are expected to recognize our mistakes, take responsibility for them, apologize when necessary, and resolve to do better. But then comes something equally important: We are allowed to become someone new.

The great Jewish sage Maimonides describes the person who has sincerely repented as one who is so changed that he can say, “I am a different person and not the same one who sinned.”

People can change in ways both large and small. The shy child may grow into a confident adult. Someone who once had little interest in religion may later discover a deep spiritual connection. The career that once seemed perfect may no longer be what someone wants from life.

We sometimes deny people the ability to change simply because we think we already know them. And we can do the same thing to ourselves.

During Elul we look back at what we have done, while recognizing that it doesn’t have to determine what we will do next. Teshuvah requires confronting the past honestly, but it also insists that the past does not get the final word.

Artificial intelligence is getting better at updating its memory of us. Perhaps this Elul, we can become better at updating our memories of one another and leaving room for the possibility that the person we remember is no longer the person standing before us.