Spiritual Asia (9): Why Buddhist scriptures matter in the AI age

by Abe Kwak Posted : June 11, 2026, 09:26Updated : June 11, 2026, 09:26
Golden Buddhist statues seen at the Sanbangsan Bomunsa Temple near Sanbangsan Mountain on Jeju Island AJP Joonha Yoo
Golden Buddhist statues seen at the Sanbangsan Bomunsa Temple near Sanbangsan Mountain on Jeju Island. AJP Joonha Yoo
 

This is the ninth installment of AJP’s Spiritual Asia series exploring the religious traditions, philosophical ideas and moral foundations that have shaped Asia’s civilizations. This chapter turns to Buddhism’s most influential scriptures — the Heart Sutra, Diamond Sutra, Lotus Sutra and Korea’s Tripitaka Koreana — and examines why their teachings may be more relevant than ever in the age of artificial intelligence. 

Looking back at the history of civilization, every great civilization left behind great texts. India produced the Vedas. China gave the world the Analects and the Tao Te Ching. 

Korea preserved its own ancient spiritual traditions through texts such as the Cheonbugyeong and Samil Singo. Across East Asia, however, one body of literature illuminated the spiritual landscape for centuries: the Buddhist scriptures.  

Buddhism is more than a religion. It is one of humanity’s most profound inquiries into suffering and happiness, life and death, desire and freedom, ignorance and enlightenment. That is why Buddhist scriptures remain a living source of wisdom even today, when artificial intelligence has begun to imitate aspects of human intelligence itself. 

Humanity is living in perhaps the most materially abundant age in history. A smartphone provides access to the world's information. Artificial intelligence can draft documents in seconds. Scientific advances continue at a pace that would have seemed unimaginable only a generation ago. 

Yet paradoxically, the human mind appears increasingly restless. Depression and anxiety are rising. Loneliness has become one of the defining ailments of modern life. Many people possess more material comforts than any previous generation, yet feel a persistent sense of emptiness. Information has multiplied, but wisdom has not necessarily kept pace. Connectivity has expanded, but relationships often feel shallower. 

At precisely this point, Buddhist scriptures confront us with enduring questions. What is the purpose of human life?

Where does true freedom reside? Does happiness come from external circumstances or from the condition of the mind itself? 

Among Buddhist texts, the most widely known is undoubtedly the Heart Sutra. Remarkably brief at only a few hundred Chinese characters, it nevertheless contains the essence of Mahayana Buddhist thought. Its most famous teaching is encapsulated in a single phrase: "Form is emptiness, emptiness is form." 

At first glance, the statement appears abstract and philosophical. In reality, it is deeply practical. Human beings instinctively treat visible things as permanent realities.

We believe our possessions belong to us. We imagine power will endure. We assume youth will last longer than it does. Yet the Heart Sutra reminds us that nothing is permanent. Flowers bloom and wither. Seasons change. People age and depart. Everything exists in a state of continual transformation. 

The more tightly we cling, the greater our suffering becomes. Freedom begins when attachment loosens. 

The concluding mantra of the Heart Sutra is equally famous: "Gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha." 

Often recited without reflection, it carries a powerful meaning: "Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone altogether beyond, awakening, hail." 

It is not merely a sacred formula. It is a declaration of the human spirit's journey—from ignorance to wisdom, from desire to freedom, from suffering to liberation. In many ways, it may be one of the most relevant messages for our own era. We are crossing extraordinary technological frontiers, yet many of us have not crossed the inner frontier of the mind. 

The Diamond Sutra offers another dimension of wisdom. Its name derives from the diamond-like insight capable of cutting through illusion.

At its heart lies the famous instruction: "Abide nowhere and let the mind arise." 

Most people live anchored either in the past or the future. Some remain attached to former triumphs. Others remain imprisoned by old failures. Many are consumed by anxieties about what lies ahead. The present moment slips away. 

The Diamond Sutra offers a radical alternative. Do not cling. Let the mind move freely, like flowing water. Observe thoughts as passing clouds rather than permanent realities.

Do not grasp them. Let them pass. In doing so, freedom emerges. 

Another celebrated passage in the Diamond Sutra deepens this lesson: "All conditioned phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow, like dew or a flash of lightning; thus should they be contemplated." 

The verse teaches humility. Success provides no reason for arrogance. Failure offers no reason for despair. Wealth does not last forever, nor does hardship. Change is woven into the fabric of existence itself. 

The Diamond Sutra teaches how to remain free amid that change. If the Heart Sutra teaches non-attachment and the Diamond Sutra teaches non-abiding, the Lotus Sutra proclaims perhaps Buddhism's most uplifting vision: the inherent dignity of every human being. 

The Lotus Sutra teaches that all people possess Buddha-nature. A king can become a Buddha. A farmer can become a Buddha. A child can become a Buddha. An elderly person can become a Buddha. Its message is fundamentally one of human dignity. 

No person is beyond redemption. No life is without value. Every individual possesses the capacity for awakening. 

This teaching feels particularly significant in the age of artificial intelligence, when human worth is increasingly measured through productivity, efficiency and measurable output. The Lotus Sutra offers a different perspective.

Human value does not arise from utility. It arises from being.  Every life possesses inherent worth. Every person carries the possibility of enlightenment. 

The wisdom of these scriptures was preserved and transmitted through one of humanity’s most remarkable cultural achievements: the Tripitaka Koreana. 

Housed at Haeinsa Temple in South Korea, the Tripitaka Koreana is far more than a collection of religious texts. It represents the intellectual and spiritual achievement of an entire civilization.

During the Mongol invasions of the thirteenth century, the Goryeo Kingdom undertook an extraordinary project. Between 1236 and 1251, artisans and monks carved Buddhist scriptures onto more than 81,000 wooden printing blocks. Together they contain over 52 million characters, making them one of the largest and most comprehensive repositories of premodern knowledge ever created.

In modern terms, it was a medieval knowledge archive on a civilizational scale.

What continues to astonish scholars is its accuracy. Rather than merely copying existing editions, Goryeo scholars compared multiple versions from China and neighboring states to establish the most reliable texts. The result was not simply a religious undertaking but one of the greatest scholarly editorial projects in world history.

The craftsmanship was equally extraordinary. Wood was carefully selected, soaked in seawater, boiled in saltwater and dried over many years to prevent warping. The storage halls of Haeinsa were designed with natural ventilation systems capable of regulating humidity and temperature with remarkable effectiveness. 

Eight centuries later, the woodblocks remain largely intact. It is no surprise that UNESCO has recognized both the Tripitaka Koreana and its repositories as treasures of world heritage. 

Whenever I stand before the Tripitaka Koreana, I am struck by an unavoidable comparison. 

Today humanity is constructing vast AI data centers. We build enormous server farms. We accumulate unprecedented quantities of data. We train algorithms on oceans of information. 

The people of Goryeo also built a great repository of knowledge eight centuries ago. Yet there is a crucial difference.

Modern data centers are repositories of information. The Tripitaka Koreana is a repository of wisdom.

Information can make people knowledgeable. Wisdom can make them free. 

Artificial intelligence can process information. It cannot attain enlightenment. It can perform calculations. It cannot practice compassion. It can analyze patterns. It cannot experience liberation. 

For that reason, spirituality may become more important, not less, as technology advances. The Heart Sutra teaches us to let go of attachment. The Diamond Sutra teaches us not to cling. The Lotus Sutra teaches us the dignity inherent in every human being. 

The Tripitaka Koreana preserves these teachings across eight centuries and carries them into the present. 

Ultimately, the Buddhist scriptures convey a simple yet profound truth. Human beings were not born merely to possess things. They were born to awaken. 

In the age of artificial intelligence, the final frontier remains the human mind. And among the oldest mirrors through which we may examine that mind are the Buddhist scriptures. 

The Heart Sutra, the Diamond Sutra, the Lotus Sutra and the Tripitaka Koreana are not relics of a distant past. They may, in fact, be messages from the future. 

*The author is a senior columnist of AJP.