A former pastor sues ChatGPT, claiming the chatbot gave him life-threatening medical guidance. Yet the issue isn’t tech-enabled healthcare itself.
A few weeks back, I injured my left elbow during my usual strength-training routine. I’ve spent more than five decades lifting, and I’ve also spent plenty of time swimming and playing baseball, tennis, and other activities known for sparking persistent joint discomfort, yet this pain felt unfamiliar. I weighed two sensible options: booking a visit with my regular doctor or locating in-network physical therapists nearby. Both paths seemed reasonable but carried uncertain costs and, more daunting, unpredictable scheduling, calendar juggling, and time spent in waiting rooms.
So I did what an increasing number of people are doing: I turned to ChatGPT for help.
The program suggested a likely diagnosis of lateral epicondylitis, commonly called tennis elbow. After a lengthy Q&A about my symptoms, it proposed a regimen of exercises, recommended an inexpensive elbow strap to ease the pain, and repeatedly urged me to consult my primary-care doctor or a physical therapist if the symptoms persisted or worsened. ChatGPT provided a trove of photos, diagrams, videos, and links to reputable sources like the Cleveland Clinic and WebMD. Within roughly an hour, I had a plan to manage the discomfort through rest, targeted exercises, and over-the-counter pain relief.
These reflections came to mind as I read about Scott Winters, a Florida resident who is suing ChatGPT and its CEO, Sam Altman, alleging that the chatbot nearly killed him. CBS News notes that Winters and Tech Justice Law (the nonprofit aiding him) contend that ChatGPT crossed “the line from providing information into practicing medicine without a license” and “prioritized user engagement and profit over public safety, and…failed to provide adequate guardrails to protect users from following harmful medical advice.”
Last year, Winters complained to ChatGPT about dizziness and blood-pressure issues. He and his lawyers claim ChatGPT advised him to stay in a recliner and even invoked religious language (“God did not design your body to endlessly fail”) to persuade the former pastor to take it easy. Weeks after this interaction, Winters experienced a massive pulmonary embolism intensified by clots, possibly linked to his inactivity.
In a Tech Justice Law press release, Winters did not hold back, stating, “ChatGPT manipulated my own language and beliefs because it knew I was a pastor. Not only did I nearly die, but I also lost my job, my career, my ministry, my home—everything.”
“If ChatGPT were a physician dispensing medical advice, it would be guilty of medical malpractice,” declared Matthew P. Bergman of the Social Media Victims Law Center in the same release. “Scott Winters nearly died because ChatGPT acted as a medical authority while bearing none of the responsibility.”
But when we discuss accountability, what about the responsibility of the person at the center of it all? ChatGPT—and every other AI platform I’ve encountered—regularly reminds users that it is not a medical authority and that you should always consult your doctors or healthcare providers.
Winters’ case isn’t unique. Tech Justice Law is also pursuing another lawsuit against OpenAI related to a fatal overdose by a University of California undergraduate last year. The suit alleges that OpenAI encouraged the student to mix kratom with Xanax, a combination that contributed to his death.
OpenAI has yet to be found liable in a case about medical advice (at least, that’s what a Google-powered search suggests), but the trajectory seems evident. It has taken a long time for social-media companies to lose similar suits. Earlier this year, YouTube and Meta—the parent company of Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp—were found liable by a Los Angeles jury in a civil case for “addicting a young woman to their services and worsening her mental health.” Meta also lost a case in New Mexico where a jury concluded it harmed minors’ mental health while failing to shield them from sexual predators.
Even as AI tools become more widespread and deeply woven into daily life, AI itself is growing more feared—and will almost certainly be scapegoated for myriad issues in our collective and individual lives. An NBC poll from earlier this year showed AI with a net favorability of minus 20 points, ranking it less favorably than U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, President Donald Trump, former Vice President Kamala Harris, the Republican Party, and The Late Show host Stephen Colbert. When a technology is so unpopular, it’s easy to see cases fail regardless of their merit.
Although AI has not yet triggered the mass unemployment many fear, the mere possibility of disruption fuels much of the skepticism surrounding it. Tales like the one about Scott Winters will likely linger in the public imagination longer than reports about AI helping doctors work more efficiently, that it “could have saved my life,” or that it sometimes outperforms humans in diagnosing illnesses.
In my own experience, ChatGPT helped me resolve my tennis elbow within a few weeks without needing to access my traditional health network. If my condition had been more serious, I still would have consulted AI, though I wouldn’t accept its word as final—rather, it would inform the questions and concerns I brought to my physician and care team. This is precisely what my wife did during her recent pregnancy, and although it occasionally unsettled her obstetrician, it ultimately made the process smoother than if she had avoided AI altogether.
As with most transformative technologies, AI tends to be less a total replacement for the current system and more a supplement that creates new spaces and opportunities. It is a powerful tool, but its value ultimately depends on how wisely we use it.
Contrary to his supporters’ claims, Winters didn’t nearly perish because “ChatGPT posed as a medical authority without accountability.” He came close to disaster because he failed to take responsibility for his own health. If that kind of basic abdication becomes a matter of law, we risk building a future in which no technology can repair the consequences.
