“Everything added meant something lost, and about as often as not the thing lost was preferable to the thing gained, so
that over time we’d be lucky if we just broke even. Any thought otherwise was just empty pride.”
That quote comes from the novel Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier. I can’t tell you much else from that book. I
couldn’t give you a detailed plot summary or describe all the characters because it has been nearly 30 years since I read
it. But for some reason, that one line never left me.
Those who know me well understand that I’ve always had an affinity for quotes. It probably started as a defense
mechanism when I was younger. Since I never viewed myself as the smartest person in the room, quoting people who
were smarter than me felt like a decent strategy. Borrow enough wisdom from other people, and maybe some of it rubs
off.
For years, I used that quote while teaching history to explain the idea of unintended consequences. Every major change
in history — political revolutions, industrialization, technological advances, social movements — creates winners and
losers. Progress often comes with a cost. Over time, though, I realized I wasn’t entirely being fair to the quote, or even
to the idea of progress itself. So eventually, I stopped using it and honestly hadn’t thought much about it for years.
Then recently I read Nexus: A Brief History of Information Networks from the Stone Age to AI by Yuval Noah Harari,
and suddenly that old quote came roaring back into my mind.
I cannot do justice to Harari’s book with a short summary. I simply encourage people to read it. Whether you agree with
all of his conclusions or not, it forces you to think — and right now, thinking deeply may be one of the most important
things we can still do for ourselves.
One point Harari makes that struck me was this: history is ultimately the study of change.
Simple idea. Profound truth.
In all my years teaching history, I don’t remember any professor putting it that cleanly or clearly. History is not really
about memorizing dates or names or battles. It is about understanding how human beings adapt — sometimes wisely,
sometimes disastrously — to change.
As a coach, I spent years asking athletes to embrace change. Adjust your swing. Change your mechanics. Improve your
conditioning. Sacrifice individual comfort for team success. Growth demanded discomfort.
As a history teacher, I taught students that America itself required constant change if it hoped to fulfill the promise laid
out in the Constitution “…in order to form a more perfect union.” The nation only became stronger when more people
became more free — free from slavery, free from segregation, free from discrimination, free from barriers preventing
education, property ownership, or the right to vote.
Progress matters.
Progress is necessary.
But even necessary progress deserves careful thought because every gain changes something else along the way.
Sometimes quietly. Sometimes permanently.
And now humanity stands at the edge of perhaps the biggest change we have ever encountered: Artificial Intelligence.
Harari argues that AI is fundamentally different from previous technological revolutions because for the first time
humans may be creating systems capable of making decisions independent of human thought. Not simply tools
controlled by humans, but systems that begin shaping outcomes on their own.
That idea should probably make all of us at least a little uncomfortable.
As someone who often struggles enough with regular human intelligence, trying to wrap my mind around artificial
intelligence can feel overwhelming. My natural instinct is skepticism. Maybe even fear. It is easy for me to wonder if
what we are about to lose will someday prove more valuable than what we gain.
Jerry Seinfeld may have summarized it better than anyone:
“We’re smart enough to invent AI; dumb enough to need it, and so stupid we can’t figure out if we did the right thing.”
That line makes me laugh every time, mostly because there is so much truth packed into the joke.
Still, I also know it is intellectually lazy to simply romanticize the “good old days.” Every generation tends to imagine
there was some magical point in the past when society had things figured out. But history tells us otherwise. The past
was not some perfect golden age. Human beings have always struggled with fear, conflict, inequality, greed, violence,
and uncertainty.
At the same time, human beings have also shown remarkable creativity, courage, compassion, and resilience.
If earlier generations had completely feared change, we would never have experienced the advances brought by science,
medicine, transportation, communication, or modern technology. We would still be living lives much closer to our Stone
Age ancestors than the lives we enjoy today.
That doesn’t mean every innovation is good. It doesn’t mean every step forward truly is progress. But it does mean fear
alone cannot guide us.
What concerns me most today may not even be AI itself, but our growing inability to slow down long enough to think
carefully about anything. We consume information constantly but spend less time reflecting on it. We react instantly.
We outrage instantly. We scroll endlessly. Somewhere along the way, depth started losing to speed.
Books fight against that.
Books force patience. Reflection. Attention span. Nuance.
Maybe that’s one reason I appreciated Nexus so much. It reminded me that understanding change requires more than
headlines, tweets, reels, or algorithms feeding us exactly what we already believe.
I don’t pretend to have answers about where AI leads us. Honestly, anyone claiming they know exactly where all this
goes is probably selling something. But I do know this: blindly worshipping technology is just as dangerous as blindly
worshipping nostalgia.
Both can distort reality.
From the beginning of civilization, humanity has always existed in a tension between creation and destruction, wisdom
and arrogance, hope and fear. That struggle isn’t new. The tools simply change.
I suppose in the end it comes down to this:
Do we face the future with fear or with hope?
If I’m being honest, some days I lean toward fear. I think a lot of people probably do right now. The world feels louder,
faster, and more uncertain than ever.
But I still want to be on the side of hope.
Maybe hope begins with staying curious.
Reading deeply.
Thinking critically.
Having real conversations.
Resisting easy answers.
And remembering that progress without wisdom can be dangerous, but fear without vision can be paralyzing.
This week’s Perspective isn’t really a perspective so much as it is me thinking out loud and trying to make sense of it all.
So keep reading books, my friends.
The future needs thoughtful people.
Until next week…
Chad
