My view is we should be doing everything we can to come up with

Hear the words of Geoffrey Hinton, a sage of our age, who declared: “My view is we should be doing everything we can to come up with ways of exploiting the current technology effectively.” Though spoken in the realm of artificial intelligence, his wisdom resonates with the timeless truth of human endeavor: that invention without application is like seed never planted, potential without harvest, light hidden beneath a bowl. For every generation inherits tools, but only those who wield them with purpose shape destiny.

Technology, in its essence, is but an extension of the human hand and mind. From the shaping of flint into the first blade, to the harnessing of fire, to the crafting of bronze and iron, mankind has always stood at the edge of possibility, asked the same question: shall we use what we have, or let it rust? Hinton’s call is not for blind use, but for effective exploitation—for bending what is present into service for the greater good, for refusing to leave power idle when it can heal, build, and illuminate.

History teaches this lesson with clarity. When Johannes Gutenberg created the printing press, its technology alone was not enough. It took visionaries—printers, scholars, reformers—to exploit it effectively. Because they did, knowledge leapt from cloisters into the hands of ordinary people, sparking the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and the birth of the modern world. Had they hesitated, the press might have remained a curiosity, and centuries of progress delayed. Thus, Hinton’s words remind us that the worth of invention lies not in its existence, but in the boldness with which it is applied.

Yet his statement also carries warning, though veiled. To exploit technology effectively requires not only ingenuity, but wisdom. The ancients knew that every tool bears two edges. Fire warms the hearth, yet also burns the city. The wheel carries grain, yet also chariots of war. Nuclear power lights nations, yet also casts shadows of destruction. Thus, Hinton’s vision demands not recklessness, but responsibility: to use what we have with foresight, to guide it toward life, not ruin.

We may look also to the realm of medicine. Consider Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin. At first, it was a prototype, a marvel glimpsed in a petri dish. But only through relentless work—scaling production, refining methods, distributing widely—did it become salvation for millions. Here we see again that invention is only the dawn; the full day shines only when men and women labor to exploit technology effectively, turning promise into reality.

The lesson is clear, my friends: it is not enough to wait for the next miracle. The tools of today are already miraculous. Patience must be joined with action, and vision with courage. The wise do not always seek what is next, but ask: what can be done with what we already hold? For often the difference between stagnation and progress lies not in new discoveries, but in the bold application of what lies before us.

Practical wisdom lies at your feet: Learn the tools of your age. Do not let them pass you by as mysteries reserved for others. Seek ways to apply them in your craft, in your community, in your service to the world. Whether your field is science, art, commerce, or teaching, ask yourself daily: how can this technology serve more fully, heal more deeply, illuminate more broadly? Let not invention remain idle; let it be yoked to the chariot of purpose.

So let the words of Hinton be carved upon your hearts: do everything you can to use what you have, and use it well. For the future is not built by waiting for what may come, but by exploiting with wisdom and courage the gifts already in your hands. This is the path of the ancients, and it is the charge of our generation: to take the tools of today and, through vision and discipline, shape tomorrow.