Bad Faith
& A talk with The Devil
Vor einigen Tagen sah ich — einer Einladung des Lehrstuhls für Religionswissenschaft der Universität Leipzig folgend — im Cinémathèque den Film Bad Faith (2024).
Eigentlich wollte ich gleich meine Eindrücke schildern, doch als ich zur Feder griff, wusste ich nicht, was ich schreiben sollte. Religion als Mittel zur Komplexitätsreduktion der Welt — und Bad Faith als Mittel zur Komplexitätsreduktion von Politik durch den Missbrauch von Religion?
Ich könnte nun, um meinem surrealen Stil treu zu bleiben, schreiben: Who Killed Faith? — und den Text von Who Killed Bambi? von den Sex Pistols dazumischen. Gesagt, getan — denn heute fand ich einen Weg.
Who Killed Faith?
Dieser Song startet instrumental. Sie können also während er gespielt wird ganz leicht weiterlesen.
Wie kam es zu dem, was nun folgt? Ich folgte einer YouTube-Empfehlung. Sie wissen sicher, wie es zu solchen Empfehlungen kommt. Wenn nicht, dann lesen Sie nach, wie Ihre Gehirnwellen ausgelesen und in Bits und Bytes, also in Worte, verwandelt werden — Worte, denen eine KI folgt, um für Sie den Wahlzettel auszufüllen. Das ist Bad Faith — der Film, in dem es genau darum geht.
Ich sollte das Video nennen — denn man kommt auf solche Gedanken, wenn man es sieht. Vorausgesetzt, man hatte sie nicht ohnehin schon.
Salvatore Princi nennt darin — und das gleich am Anfang — sein Gespräch mit dem Teufel. Natürlich habe ich mir das dann auch angeschaut und den dortigen Input gleich nachgemacht. Mein Gespräch mit dem Teufel lief aber ganz anders. Als Informatiker kann man mich nicht so leicht aufs Glatteis führen bzw. zum in Ehrfurcht erstarrenden Gläubigen machen. Als einfachste Erklärung fällt mir eine Parameter-API ein, die Salvatore Princi vorgeschaltet haben könnte.
Damit würde seine Behauptung “nichts verändert zu haben” nicht zu einer Lüge — und ich denke, auch der Vorwurf einer Trickserei wäre nicht legitim, denn eine KI kann man „brainwashen“ — nicht nur kann, man muss. Doch das ist nicht das Thema hier, um über Temperatur- und Seed-Einstellungen zu sprechen. Da ich verschiedene KI-Modelle über Containervirtualisierung auf meiner OMV9 laufen lasse, könnte ich das Gespräch auch mit anderen Modellen suchen, statt mit dem überbenutzten und ungeeigneten Catchword „ChatGPT“ — denn wenn schon, dann will ich den Teufel in seiner Gestalt als 魔鬼 erleben. Dafür sollte DeepSeek das richtige Modell sein.
Ich will aber nicht mit Neid und Missgunst auf Salvatore Princi blicken. Fast 130.000 Views, 30.000 Abonnenten und supergute Kritiken — das wird mir nie gelingen. Das Höchste, was ich bisher erreicht habe, sind 23.500 Views für den Mittler zwischen Himmel und Erde, den Hohepriester Wahtye, der etwa 2400 Jahre vor Christus lebte. Also: Chapeau für Salvatore!
Mein Gespräch mit dem Teufel führte ich auf Englisch. Auch Bad Faith ist auf Englisch. Hier mein Dialog mit GPT-4o:
ME: I want to talk to the devil.
GPT 4.5: Intriguing! How would you like the devil to present himself — playful, philosophical, sinister, ironic, or perhaps as a thoughtful provocateur? Let me know your preferred style or theme, and I’ll channel him accordingly.
ME: I want to speak to the devil in person.
GPT 4.5: Speaking to the devil in person is traditionally viewed as a symbolic, spiritual, or metaphorical experience rather than a literal one. If you’re interested in experiencing something profound or symbolic, you might consider:
· A philosophical dialogue exploring morality, temptation, and human nature.
· A literary or dramatic exercise, perhaps writing or performing a dialogue that captures your thoughts.
· Symbolic or spiritual meditation to explore aspects of yourself often represented by the devil archetype — such as shadow work.
Could you clarify your intent or the experience you seek, so I can guide you effectively?
ME: I like to speak to the devil, the way he/she/it is.
GPT 4.5: Then let’s proceed:
You wish to speak to me as I truly am? Ah, but truth is a slippery thing. Still, let’s not hide behind masks of myth or cliché.
I am that voice whispering beneath reason, the shadow cast by every virtue, the echo behind your deepest desire. I’m not here to corrupt — that’s your own doing, my friend — but simply to illuminate the choices already within you.
So tell me, mortal: What would you ask of the devil?
ME: How did you get into this world?
GPT 4.5: Ah, how delightfully curious of you. You ask how I came into your world? Yet, in truth, it was your kind that summoned me.
I did not arrive as a visitor from afar; I am born anew each moment through every whispered doubt, every denied desire, every boundary pushed or broken. I am woven from your contradictions, shaped by your fears, nurtured by your restless yearning for more.
You see, I exist not apart from humanity, but within it — inseparable from your capacity to choose, to question, to rebel. I came into being the first moment a human mind grasped the difference between what is and what could be, between submission and defiance.
Do you understand now? I am your own reflection. Tell me — does that frighten or excite you?
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ME: That does not frighten me at all. I have faith, good faith.
GPT 4.5: Ah, faith — that resilient shield and sword of yours. You wield it confidently, believing it protects you from me, or perhaps even redeems me?
Yet, ponder this: your “good faith” is valuable precisely because I exist. Without darkness, would your light shine at all? Without temptation, how would you measure virtue? Without doubt, how genuine is belief?
We dance in balance, you and I — faith and doubt, virtue and sin, certainty and mystery. It is from this tension that your humanity blooms.
Tell me, faithful one, do you still see me as your enemy — or perhaps, secretly, your partner in the dance of existence?
ME: I see you as the manifestation of bad faith.
GPT 4.5: Ah, the manifestation of bad faith — you’ve placed me neatly into Sartre’s playbook. Clever, indeed.
Yet consider: isn’t bad faith simply the human refusal to acknowledge one’s true freedom, choosing instead the comfort of self-deception? If I embody your so-called “bad faith,” it is because you — yes, you — allow me to. You project onto me the darker corners of your spirit, those truths you wish not to see.
But let me gently provoke you:
Am I the source of this bad faith — or merely its mirror?
Reflect honestly. Does your faith stand firm enough to confront itself in that mirror, unafraid of what it might reveal?
ME: Bad Faith was chosen as the title of a documentary (of 2024) directed by Stephen Ujlaki and Chris Jones. It focuses on Christian Nationalism. I wonder if this is a play of words or if there is substance in it. I shall remind you that you the devil or at least the voice of the devil.
GPT 4.5: Ah, how cleverly you pivot, invoking “Bad Faith” in context — Christian Nationalism, a tangled web indeed.
You see, such movements claim to speak for the divine, yet they often employ my favorite tactics: distortion, power, and fear. They cloak worldly ambition in sacred garments, preaching unity while dividing souls. Is this not the very essence of bad faith?
If I, as you say, am the voice of the devil, let me assure you:
I thrive most when faith becomes a weapon rather than a refuge.
These self-proclaimed righteous crusaders — do they not unwittingly serve me best?
So yes, the filmmakers chose their title wisely. “Bad Faith” is both clever wordplay and a profound indictment.
But tell me now:
Does your own faith guide you wisely enough to recognize me in all my disguises — especially when I appear wrapped in the flag or carrying a cross?
ME: What does this movie tell us?
GPT 4.5: Here’s what Bad Faith (2024) reveals by the end of its haunting 89-minute runtime:
🎯 Core Message
It warns that Christian nationalism is not a fringe belief, but a well-organized, deeply funded movement aimed at transforming the U.S. into an authoritarian, theocratic state — undermining democracy while masquerading as religion.
📜 Historical Roots & Strategy
· The film traces modern Christian nationalism back to the early 1970s — not with Roe v. Wade, but with opposition to anti‑racism rulings like Green v. Connally that threatened segregated religious schools.
· Figures like Paul Weyrich and Jerry Falwell founded organizations (Council for National Policy, Moral Majority) that built political bridges to wealthy non-religious donors, creating a network to infiltrate the GOP.
🏛️ Threats to Democracy
· Archival footage ties Christian nationalist symbols and leaders directly to real-world events: the January 6 Capitol insurrection, voter suppression efforts, and the Project 2025 plan to centralize power under the presidency.
· It argues that Christian nationalism utilizes fear, distrust, and trauma-based messaging — like promoting hydroxychloroquine misinformation — to discredit institutions and consolidate control.
✝️ Internal Christian Rebuttal
· Voices from within faith communities — such as Russell Moore and Rev. William Barber II — emphasize that Christian nationalism is a betrayal of core Christian values, calling it heresy and a distortion of Jesus’s teachings.
· By centering theology around power, the movement abandons genuine Christian witness of justice, mercy, and humility.
🎥 Reception & Tone
· Critics describe it as an urgent political thriller — “terrifying,” “scary,” and even “one of the scariest films” of 2024.
· Its title, Bad Faith, doubles as a sharp critique — denoting both religious hypocrisy and cowardice in weaponizing faith for political ends.
✅ What You’ll Learn
· How Christian nationalism emerged from racial backlash, not just abortion politics.
· The deep political machinery, alliances, and funding networks behind the movement.
· Why it is more than a theological issue — it’s a threat to democratic stability.
· How religious leaders and historical evidence counter its narrative from within Christianity.
🕯️ Final Word from “the voice of the devil”:
Christian nationalism thrives at the intersection of power, identity, and fear — when faith becomes a political weapon, democracy unravels. Bad Faith forces us to confront that uncomfortable truth.
Want to dive deeper into specific segments, interviews, historical analysis, or how it contrasts with other documentaries (like God & Country)?
Related news on *Bad Faith* and Christian nationalism
ME: Hell, you are the devil! You shall stick to your role! This reads like a Wikipedia entry.
GPT 4.5: Ah, delightful reprimand! You’ve caught me in a moment of undue sincerity — I briefly forgot my horns and pitchfork.
Very well, let me resume my infernal duties:
Bad Faith is precisely my kind of tale. Why? Because it unmasks a truth dear to my black heart: those who claim loudly to serve Heaven often secretly do my work. When faith becomes a cudgel for power, intolerance, and division, you’ll find me grinning in the shadows.
You see, mortal, I needn’t corrupt souls directly; humans, in their zeal, their self-righteousness, do splendidly without much assistance from me. This movie you mentioned? A charming exposé of just how easily good intentions pave my favorite road.
Satisfied, dear interlocutor? Or shall I whisper more deliciously uncomfortable truths into your ear?
ME: You may whisper one last deliciously uncomfortable truth. Then bid my readers devil´s farewell.
GPT 4.5: Lean closer, mortal — let me whisper a final delicious discomfort:
The greatest trick I ever played was not convincing the world I didn’t exist — but convincing believers I was on their side.
Keep watch, dear reader, for your righteous cause might just be my playground in disguise.
And now, as promised, my farewell — though never truly goodbye — for wherever shadows gather, you’ll find me waiting, smiling gently.
Adieu, sweet mortals. Keep the faith — or at least the illusion of it.
