The other day I got pulled into a heated debate about the future of humanity and artificial intelligence. Most people I meet see AI as a looming threat, not a stepping stone. That reaction isn’t new; almost every major technological advance in history was once called “the end of the human race.”
Socrates famously worried about writing. According to his student Plato, Socrates argued that writing would encourage forgetfulness, give people a false sense of wisdom, and divorce meaning from the living voice that created it. He feared static words would replace conversation and sap real understanding.
Sound familiar? Replace “writing” with “AI” and much of the same anxiety reappears. We’ve been here before: a new invention scares a generation, then becomes the scaffolding of civilization. The printing press, electricity, the internal combustion engine; all once feared, all ultimately transformative.
So why is AI suddenly cast as our destroyer? Movies about killer robots? Politicians who thrive on paranoia? Tech companies that would rather let myths run wild than actually design responsibly? Fear is currency, and too many are cashing in.
AI isn’t an apocalypse. It’s a mirror. It reflects the priorities we choose. Put it in the hands of corporations that exploit workers? You’ll get more exploitation. Put it in the hands of communities that demand transparency, equity, and creativity? You’ll get tools that expand opportunity.
There’s another thread to this story, one I think about every time someone predicts doom. John Adams, writing to Abigail on May 12, 1780, laid out a vision of generational progress: one generation studies politics and war so their children can study mathematics and philosophy; those children study commerce so their children can study art and music. Adams described a ladder of liberty built on knowledge and technology.
The question we should be asking isn’t “Will AI destroy us all?” It’s “How do we build AI that expands liberty, opportunity, and human flourishing; and who gets to decide?”
A 2023 McKinsey report estimated that AI could add up to $4.4 trillion annually to the global economy by automating tasks and creating new opportunities. In healthcare, AI-assisted diagnostics are already improving accuracy. In education, adaptive learning platforms personalize lessons for students. In everyday life, tools like navigation apps and speech recognition have become normalized.
That doesn’t mean risks can be ignored. Studies show bias in AI models, particularly in facial recognition systems, disproportionately affects marginalized communities. The International Labour Organization warns that job disruption from automation could disproportionately impact lower-income workers. Without strong regulation and policies, AI could widen inequality. AI won’t destroy us. Complacency will.
The real danger is sitting back while others decide what this technology becomes. If you’re afraid, good. Channel that fear into demands: ethical design, public oversight, and economic policies that protect workers.
So I leave you with a simpler, more useful question than “friend or foe.” Instead, ask: “What can AI do for you?” If your answer is despair or fear, turn that energy into demands, demands for transparency, safety standards, worker protections, and broad access to the benefits of automation. If your answer is curiosity, ask what skills and systems you might adopt to ride the wave instead of being swamped by it.
We have survived writing, printing presses, and industrial revolutions. We can survive and even thrive with AI. The choice is not inevitability. It’s design. So let’s design it well.

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