This anti-AI evangelist is growing more popular. That could be a problem for Trump

When the pandemic decimated the live events scene, Joe Allen packed up a survival bunker on wheels and headed out on a new career path. Jobs were few and far between for concert riggers like Allen, who set up concert lighting and sound systems. So he pursued a different kind of roadie life: traveling around the country and writing about the dangers of new technology and artificial intelligence for outlets like The Federalist — eventually landing a gig on former White House chief strategist Steve Bannon's War Room podcast. Allen's skepticism would have been niche just a few years ago. But now he also travels the country giving sermons warning about the dangers of AI, striking a nerve with Americans who are increasingly worried about AI's impact on their jobs, electricity bills and mental health, as well as the environment.

A graduate of Boston University's religion and science program and a self-proclaimed tech-Luddite, Allen's anti-AI stance is now firmly in the mainstream. In February, Time magazine featured him in a cover story about the backlash against AI. I sound less crazy now, Allen said before a speech in March at Dallas' First Baptist Church, one of the country's largest mega churches. Allen's speeches, writings, and media appearances are helping fuel a widening rift on AI within the American right that could pose a problem for President Donald Trump and Republicans in the coming midterm elections. Many in Allen's audiences are MAGA supporters — but they don't necessarily agree with the Trump administration's largely hands-off approach to regulating AI.

There is this whole cultural matrix that's already filled with this resentment. People are horrified by the imposition of technology, he told CNN. They're furious. They do not want it. Nationwide, college students worried about their job prospects booed AI at commencement ceremonies. Communities are protesting the construction of AI data centers, afraid they'll bring pollution and noise. Families are suing AI companies for harmful actions they say AI chatbots encouraged. Allen leans into those sentiments. It's not modern technology that Allen takes issue with; it's the perception of AI as a god that knows better than humans about what is good and true.

Allen's message resonates with a broad audience, particularly among those who feel left behind by technological progress. He argues that AI development is driven by corporate interests rather than human well-being, and calls for stricter regulations. This puts him at odds with the Trump administration's pro-business stance, creating a potential political fault line. As the midterm elections approach, the anti-AI movement could mobilize voters who are skeptical of both parties' tech policies. Allen's growing influence suggests that AI skepticism is no longer a fringe position but a significant political force.

The rift within the Republican Party over AI could have major implications. While some conservatives embrace AI as a driver of economic growth, others see it as a threat to jobs and traditional values. Allen's ability to tap into these fears makes him a powerful voice. If the anti-AI sentiment continues to grow, it could pressure Republican candidates to take a stronger stance on regulation, potentially alienating tech industry donors. The coming months will reveal whether this movement can translate into electoral impact.