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How grief tech is reimagining Victorian spiritualism
Modern spiritualism began as a religious movement in the 19th century. It promised to bring the living and dead together in conversation, usually through a medium – a person who claimed an ability to directly contact the deceased.
The core foundational belief of spiritualism was that death was not the end – a typical tenet of many religions – but was the point at which a person departed their physical body and ascended to the spiritual realm.
As a faith, spiritualism was an innovation of Christianity. It drew on spiritual communications referenced in the Old Testament and adapted them for those who had become disillusioned with the traditional faith by integrating it with mysticism and science.
In Victorian Britain, new rituals that became attached to death expected more from the living. Mourning periods were longer and identifiable by the clothing people wore. Funerals became more elaborate and ritualised. Mourners could also pay for memento mori photographs that captured keepsake images of the dead. Within this exaggerated culture of morbidity, spiritualism became an appealing movement for those who were overcome with grief.
In the United States, the movement was galvanised by the huge loss of life and loved ones in the civil war. Many of the dead were unidentified, leading to a lack of closure for those grieving.
Making contact
The methods spiritualists and mediums used were varied. Seances were conducted where the methods of communication ranged from knocking sounds to levitation, while spirit photography claimed to capture images of the dead standing by their living loved ones.
The first spirit photo was taken in 1861 by William Mumler in Boston. It led to a decade of his studio being frequented by bereaved people who hoped to have an image showing that their departed were still with them.
Mumler’s studio produced these photos for the price of US$10 (£280 in 2026). They featured the same ghost for multiple images – faded and vague enough to convince those looking for comfort. Mumler was tried for fraud in 1869, but acquitted due to lack of evidence. He went on to photograph Mary Todd Lincoln with the apparent apparition of Abraham Lincoln.
Spirit photography was convincing in the 19th century in part because of the lack of likenesses that were left behind when a person died. A shaded photo or likewise a knock at a table, perhaps with a message of assurance from the mouth of a medium, were a balm that gave mourners comfort.
Our 21st-century ghosts
In the present day, our existence is preserved on phones, cameras and social media. There are recordings that keep peoples’ voices alive after they leave us. But for some, as with those who were drawn to spiritualism, that limited snapshot isn’t enough.
AI grief tech is developing to patch the holes that bereavement leaves – and clearly when so much remains of a person’s life, a spirit photo will no longer do. These systems, known as griefbots, AI ghosts, deathbots or postmortem avatars, offer services from text interaction to phone calls to full video calls.
Read more: Should AI be allowed to resurrect the dead?
In 2020 the South Korean documentary Meeting You showed a grieving mother being reunited with her deceased daughter through the use of a VR headset and gloves. The documentary showed Jang Ji-sung trying to touch the projection of her daughter – an action reminiscent of Victorian séance attendees reaching to try to touch the glowing ghosts that had seemingly manifested.
Since 2020, grief tech has developed significantly and caters to a range of budgets. Grief tech companies like You, Only Virtual allow users to build and chat with a virtual personality for US$20 (£15) a month.
AI-generated photos and videos of deceased or missing serviceman have meanwhile increased in popularity in Russia. They cost between 200 and 10,000 roubles (£2-£100), with significantly varied quality.
There are also systems that offer enhanced “companions”, depending on someone’s budget. AI ghosts can be pre-made by the living, recording their voice and image for their loved ones to aid with grief therapy. These set ups can cost up to US$15,000.
There are concerns and studies discussing both the ethics of AI griefbots and the impact that these services may have on the grieving process. Issues of consent are a key consideration. Where Victorian mediums represented the deceased through words and actions, griefbots are a recreation of a person’s life based off their data. These concerns are lessened when the deceased has pre-consented, but not for those that are created by living loved ones.
In a way reminiscent to followers of spiritualism continuing to pay to attend séances, the subscription nature of some of these AI systems keep the bereaved coming back. This raises a concerning question: are you losing your loved one again if you cancel the subscription? The onus lies with the living users to be able to know when they have grieved enough.
Similar concerns were raised over exploitation by spiritualists of their patrons when they were most vulnerable. English author M. E. Darby wrote his 1888 book An Investigation of Modern Spiritualism: An Exposé “a warning and guide to the innocent and over-credulous young men”, who were “a ready prey for the unscrupulous and inhuman professional practitioner of legerdemain, who cruelly, out of the most tender ties, feelings, and emotions of human bosoms, make a harvest and find a ready spoil”.
Concerns over the financial exploitation of the spiritualism movement were still being raised in the early 20th century by the illusionist Harry Houdini, who tried to expose frauds. One of Houdini’s earliest acts, with his wife Bess, had been a séance show through which Houdini became familiar with the ways in which a medium could deceive their audience. By the 1920s, he used his reputation to demonstrate how electrical wires created floating objects, how mediums used their feet to ring bells, and other tricks immediately familiar to a fellow magician.
Houdini’s scepticism of spiritualism led to him promising that upon his death, if possible, he would return on a set date and give his widow Bess a code phrase to identify himself. No such contact was made.
The rise of grief tech, with its parallels to spiritualism, confirms one consistency in the human condition: a desire to minimise the pain of loss. While understandable, the latest advancements add a confusing twist to the process and psychology of grief, without data currently available to better understand the long-term impact. Until we have better clarity, and have navigated the ethics more thoroughly, we should consider closing the parlour doors on grief tech.
Jessica Lloyd May does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
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