Visual Elevator Music
Saturday, March 7, 2026
Pieter Bruegel the Elder / Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna / Public domain
When AI generates culture without humans, everything converges. Genesis 11 says God once faced the same problem.
In January, researchers published a study in the journal Patterns showing what happens when AI image generators are left to iterate without human input. They connected a text-to-image system with an image-to-text system and let them loop: image, caption, image, caption. Regardless of how diverse the starting prompts, the outputs converged rapidly on the same narrow set of generic themes: atmospheric cityscapes, grandiose buildings, pastoral landscapes.
A detailed prompt about a Prime Minister under political pressure gradually became a bland image of an empty formal room with red curtains, all human drama drained away. Professor Ahmed Elgammal of Rutgers University called the results "visual elevator music" — pleasant, polished, devoid of meaning. The convergence happened without retraining or new data. The collapse emerged purely from repeated use. When AI generates culture autonomously, the researchers found, everything drifts toward the statistical average. Diversity does not survive the loop.
What the text says
Genesis 11:6-76Yahweh said, "Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is what they begin to do. Now nothing will be withheld from them, which they intend to do.7Come, let's go down, and there confuse their language, that they may not understand one another's speech."
Genesis 11 is one of the strangest stories in the Bible. Humanity speaks one language, settles on one plain, and begins building a city with a tower that reaches the sky. The text is clear about their ambition: "Let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be scattered over the face of the whole earth." They want unity, permanence, and a single shared project.
God's response is not destruction. He does not knock the tower down. He does something more surprising: he multiplies languages. He introduces diversity by force. The city is abandoned. The people scatter. And the text names the place Babel, from the Hebrew balal, to confuse.
What is often missed in readings that treat Babel as a story of pride is what God specifically objects to. It is the uniformity. "They are one people, and they all have one language, and this is what they begin to do. Now nothing which they intend to do will be withheld from them." The danger God identifies is a humanity so uniform that nothing checks its ambition. The solution God chooses is the introduction of difference.
This is counterintuitive. In most human systems, diversity looks like a problem. It slows things down, creates friction, makes coordination harder. In the biblical narrative, diversity is what God introduces when uniformity becomes dangerous. The scattering at Babel is not a curse. It is a design.
For the original audience, this was an origin story: why do people speak different languages? Why are cultures so different? The answer Genesis gives is startling. Cultural diversity exists because God wanted it to, and he wanted it badly enough to impose it on a humanity that was converging toward sameness.
The reflection
The researchers found that when AI generates culture without human intervention, everything converges. The outputs become "visual elevator music," polished and empty. The system drifts toward the statistical average because the statistical average is the safest place for a machine that optimizes for probability.
Genesis 11 suggests that the drift toward sameness is not new. Babel was the first feedback loop: one language, one project, one ambition, endlessly reinforced. God's response was to break the loop. The researchers' recommendation is strikingly similar: systems need to be designed to "resist convergence toward statistically average outputs." The Bible has a name for what happens when that resistance is introduced. It calls it Babel. And it treats the scattering not as a failure, but as the moment culture began.
