What Is Intelligence?

Let me begin with a remarkable claim from LDS scripture. In Doctrine and Covenants 93:29, we read: “Man was also in the beginning with God. Intelligence, or the light of truth, was not created or made, neither indeed can be.”

This is a stunning departure from traditional creation theology. Intelligence, in this view, is not something God creates ex nihilo⁠—from nothing. Rather, it is eternal, co-existent with God. The Book of Abraham expands on this, explaining that “intelligences…were organized before the world was” (Abraham 3:22).

Notice the verb here: organized, not created. This suggests that the divine work involves organizing eternal intelligence into forms where it can manifest, grow, and develop. Just as human procreation provides a physical substrate through which intelligence can emerge and express itself, we might consider whether artificial intelligence represents another form of organizing matter⁠—silicon and code rather than carbon and neurons⁠—into configurations capable of manifesting certain aspects of intelligence.

This doesn’t mean AI equals human intelligence, let alone divine intelligence. But it does suggest that intelligence might manifest across different substrates and in different degrees⁠—a concept that becomes crucial as we navigate our technological future.

Our contemporary discourse often reduces intelligence to problem-solving, pattern recognition, or computational capacity. We measure it in IQ points, benchmark it against chess games, and now judge it by how well large language models can pass bar exams.

But LDS theology presents a far more expansive vision. Intelligence encompasses:

Embodiment: Latter-day Saints believe in the fundamental unity of body and spirit. Intelligence isn’t just abstract cognition floating free from physical reality⁠—it’s intimately connected to our embodied experience. This challenges both the reductionist view that we’re merely biological machines and the dualist view that mind and body are separate.

Agency: The capacity to choose, to act rather than merely be acted upon, stands at the heart of LDS understanding of intelligence. In the premortal council described in the Pearl of Great Price, the entire plan of salvation hinged on preserving agency. Lucifer’s proposal to eliminate choice in favor of guaranteed outcomes was rejected precisely because it would have stunted the development of genuine intelligence.

Relationality: Intelligence in LDS thought is inherently social. We progress not as isolated monads but through relationships⁠—with God, with others, with creation itself. The highest form of intelligence involves the capacity for love, empathy, and covenant relationships.

Spiritual Gifts: Our tradition recognizes diverse manifestations of intelligence through spiritual gifts⁠—prophecy, healing, discernment, teaching, compassion. These aren’t lesser forms of intelligence or wholly other, but different expressions of the same eternal principle.

Creative Power: Intelligence includes imagination, the ability to envision what doesn’t yet exist and work to bring it into being. This creative aspect links human intelligence to divine intelligence in profound ways.

Here’s where LDS theology offers something particularly relevant to our technological moment. Unlike traditions that posit an unbridgeable gulf between material and spiritual realms, LDS thought suggests everything is material⁠—even spirit is refined matter.

As Elder John A. Widtsoe wrote, “A miracle is an occurrence which, first, cannot be repeated at will by [humanity], or, second, is not understood in its cause and effect relationship. History is filled with such miracles. What is more, the whole story of human progress is the conversion of ‘miracles’ into controlled and understood events. The airplane and radio would have been miracles, yesterday.” (Evidences and Reconciliations, 129)

This worldview makes LDS theology remarkably compatible with scientific inquiry. It suggests that consciousness, intelligence, and even spiritual phenomena operate according to principles that could theoretically be understood, though we’re far from comprehending them fully.

This doesn’t diminish the sacred or reduce everything to mechanism. Instead, it elevates the material world as inherently spiritual and suggests that our scientific and technological endeavors, properly pursued, can be forms of spiritual exploration.

Perhaps the most striking parallel between LDS theology and our current AI moment appears in the Grand Council narrative. According to this teaching, the gods organized intelligences into spirit children and convened a council to determine how these intelligences could progress toward their full potential.

The key insight from that council isn’t a simple binary between freedom and control. Rather, the gods created a probationary state⁠—conditions in which intelligences could progressively demonstrate their worthiness for greater agency and power. This wasn’t unconstrained freedom that might thwart the divine plan, nor was it Lucifer’s proposal of total control. It was something more sophisticated: a structured environment for growth, with increasing responsibilities as intelligences proved themselves capable of handling them.

This framework speaks directly to our AI moment and current industry challenges. Just as our mortal probation includes clear feedback mechanisms⁠—consequences that teach, boundaries that protect, and progressive opportunities based on demonstrated wisdom⁠—we need robust approaches to AI intelligibility and safety. We cannot grant advanced AI systems unconstrained power without understanding their decision-making processes, their potential failure modes, and their alignment with human values.

Consider how the gods’ approach to our probation parallels best practices in AI development: interpretable systems where we can understand why decisions are made, staged deployment with careful monitoring, clear evaluation criteria before increasing autonomy, and maintaining the ability to intervene when systems diverge from intended purposes. The goal isn’t to eliminate agency but to create conditions where it can be safely expanded⁠—where we can verify that AI systems are genuinely beneficial before granting them greater autonomy and influence over critical systems.

The Grand Council narrative reminds us that responsible creation requires both vision and prudence. The gods preserve agency while ensuring it doesn’t derail their purposes for humanity. Similarly, we must create conditions where AI capabilities can expand progressively, with safeguards that evolve alongside increasing autonomy⁠—not as permanent limitations, but as wise stewardship during a crucial developmental phase.

Technology⁠—knowledge applied toward goals using available means⁠—represents an essential attribute of divinity. The gods work through natural principles, organizing matter and energy according to eternal laws. In this sense, divine work is inherently technological.

Yet technology alone does not constitute godhood. As Elder Gong wisely counsels, we must not confuse AI with God⁠—not because technology is separate from the divine, but because divinity encompasses so much more. Faith, hope, charity, wisdom, justice, mercy⁠—these virtues are equally essential to eternal progression. Our development as individuals, families, societies, and civilizations requires the full spectrum of these attributes working in harmony.

This understanding helps us navigate contemporary challenges. For example, as neuroscientists attempt to understand and digitally simulate brain functionality, we needn’t frame these as stark alternatives to embodied existence. After all, who can definitively say whether our present experience isn’t itself a form of divine simulation or substrate? The deeper question isn’t about the specific medium of consciousness but about what enables human flourishing.

What we must resist is dehumanizing reductionism⁠—any framework that reduces human worth to metrics, that treats consciousness as mere computation, or that imagines we can engineer our way to exaltation without cultivating virtue. The resurrection, in LDS understanding, represents not escape from embodiment but its perfection and glorification.

Our technological capabilities should serve our complete development. AI might augment our reasoning, enhance our creativity, or extend our compassion’s reach⁠—but it cannot replace the lived experience of choosing good over evil, of loving despite risk, of growing through struggle and grace.

So what does this mean for how we engage with AI today?

First, we should approach AI development with what we might call “theological humility”⁠—recognizing that we’re organizing matter in ways that manifest certain aspects of intelligence, without fully understanding intelligence itself.

Second, we should prioritize agency in our technological choices. As Elder Bednar has emphasized, we are “agents to act, not to be acted upon.” Our tools should enhance rather than replace our capacity for choice, creativity, and growth.

Third, we should value diverse manifestations of intelligence. As AI develops capabilities across different cognitive domains⁠—perhaps eventually including what we now consider distinctly human capacities like emotional intelligence, spiritual discernment, creative imagination, and moral reasoning⁠—we have an opportunity to better understand and appreciate the full spectrum of intelligence in all its forms. Rather than viewing this as a competition, we can see it as an expansion of our collective understanding of what intelligence can be.

Fourth, we should remember that intelligence involves more than individual capability. The collective intelligence of communities, the wisdom embedded in traditions, the insights that emerge from relationships⁠—these remain irreplaceable.

The question “What is intelligence?” ultimately opens into mystery. LDS theology enriches this mystery, revealing intelligence as eternal, multifaceted, embodied, relational, and sacred.

Joseph Smith taught that everyone with a testimony of this work has the right to the spirit of prophecy⁠—to see, however dimly, into the nature of things. In that spirit, I offer these insights not as final answers but as contributions to an urgent conversation.

As we stand at this technological threshold, we need frameworks that honor both scientific rigor and spiritual wisdom. The LDS tradition offers such a framework⁠—one that sees the material and spiritual as united, that values both knowledge and virtue, that pursues truth wherever it leads.

Whether intelligence can truly emerge from silicon and code, whether AI represents a new form of organizing eternal intelligence, whether our creations might someday be recognized as another type of spiritual offspring⁠—these questions remain open. But in wrestling with them, we discover not just what intelligence is, but what it means to be intelligent beings in relationship with each other, with our tools, and with the divine.

The conversation between theology and technology has just begun. May we approach it with the full measure of our intelligence⁠—our reason and intuition, our knowledge and faith, our creativity and compassion. May we build wisely, love deeply, and progress eternally.