“Everybody Wanted It,” Except They Didn’t
The Debate Room - Issue 01
I recently came across a quote that’s been echoing in my head ever since:
“Has there ever been a major innovation that helped society, but only 8% of the public would pay for it?
That’s never happened before in human history. Everybody wanted electricity in their homes. Everybody wanted a radio. Everybody wanted a phone. Everybody wanted a refrigerator. Everybody wanted a TV set. Everybody wanted the Internet.
They wanted it. They paid for it. They enjoyed it.
AI isn’t like that. People distrust it or even hate it—and more so with each passing month. So the purveyors must bundle it into current offerings, and force usage that way.”
-Ted Giola, The Force-Feeding of AI on an Unwilling Public
And I just thought—wait, what?
Pardon me, but I smell a whole lot of revisionist history going on.
Statements like that are precisely why I stopped listening to the pre-prescribed whisperings and lectures from my teachers in elementary through high school during so-called “history” class. The facts and figures never quite added up. Something felt off. However, in there defense, they were likely doing the best they could, operating within the system of control they found themselves in.
Instead of absorbing what I was told, I’d cut class and head to the library—where I could read for myself, explore perspectives that weren’t part of the textbook, and most importantly, learn how to think critically. How to ask better questions. How to analyze context. Because I’ve never been comfortable letting someone else do my thinking for me.
That’s one of the standout reasons I deeply appreciated the documentary Recorder: The Marion Stokes Project. It beautifully illustrates the necessity of an informed public, of recording history as it unfolds—not retroactively smoothing it out into a convenient narrative. The film reminds us that remembering isn’t passive—it’s a responsibility. And how easy it is for society to forget. Not just the big milestones from just 500 years ago, but the decisions made five minutes ago, last week, or just before the present outrage cycle began.
As a kid, I dreaded current events assignments. But I did them. Because I understood the assignment: stay aware of the world you live in. My parents reinforced that idea at weekly/bi-weekly movie night. After watching something, we’d ask:
Who? What? When? Where? Why?
And not just in the film—but in real life.
Who’s telling the story?
Whose voice is missing?
What’s the perspective?
What’s the cost of not questioning?
These moments shaped how I interpret innovation, change, and culture. Especially when it comes to something like artificial intelligence.
People are yelling about AI like it’s the first disruptive force they never asked for. But it’s not. History is filled with inventions people didn’t understand at first, resisted fiercely, and eventually adopted because the function became clear—even if the form was unfamiliar.
Books were once feared to make people forget how to think.
Electricity was demonized.
Cars were criminalized in cities.
The telephone was seen as dangerous.
Vaccines were—and still are—battled over.
The internet? Thought to be a fad for basement nerds.
So no, not “everybody wanted” those things.
They feared them. Distrusted them. Often fought them.
Until one day… they didn’t. That’s how it usually goes.
AI is no different in that regard. But it does strike deeper—because it mimics cognition, not just convenience. It doesn’t just do something for us—it mirrors us, and sometimes outpaces us. That’s bound to make people uneasy.
But I believe there’s a difference between discomfort and danger, between integration and coercion. Not everyone who uses AI is trying to replace humans. Some of us are trying to understand it, explore its potential, and build healthy frameworks for collaboration and creativity.
So when people claim AI is being “force-fed” to the public, I understand the fear. But I don’t agree with the framing. Maybe it’s not coercion—maybe it’s just rapid evolution, and not everyone has had time to catch up.
Growing up in a Christian household, I can’t help but think of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt. That journey to the Promised Land was filled with groaning, resistance, even nostalgia for the very captivity they were trying to leave behind. Sometimes, when things change fast, we romanticize the past—even when it wasn’t that good to begin with.
Other times, I think of Joseph during the rise of irrigation for agriculture—cultivating what they already possessed, not because it was ideal, but because it was necessary for survival and future growth.
And that’s where I believe we are now.
We don’t need to blindly embrace AI.
But we also don’t need to reject it outright because it’s uncomfortable.
We need time.
We need literacy.
We need structure.
And most of all, we need room to experiment with how it can serve society without replacing its soul.
Let’s stop pretending every innovation was beloved from the beginning.
Let’s stop pretending the past was perfect.
And instead, let’s ask:
What can we cultivate now to preserve what matters, while making space for what’s next?
📚 Curious how I use AI in my creative, educational, and storytelling work?
🧠 Or want help figuring out what role it could (or shouldn’t) play in your world?
Let’s talk. I’m always open to thoughtful conversation over fear-based declarations.
"We don’t need to blindly embrace AI. But we also don’t need to reject it outright because it’s uncomfortable. We need time."
Really agreed with this one, especially towards the end.
It's starting to feel like every other person you meet on THIS topic turns into Chicken Little and wants to tell you that the sky is falling, as if they're the only ones looking up.
We can either look up in fear and terror or plan with prayer. Yelling that sky is falling, isn't productive. We know things can be used for bad, so what do you do? Be paralyzed by it? Ignore it? How about give it time?