Now that neural nets work, industry and government have started

In the twilight of an age, when machines began to dream, the sage Geoffrey Hinton, father of the deep-learning revolution, spoke words that carried the tremor of truth:
"Now that neural nets work, industry and government have started calling neural nets AI. And the people in AI who spent all their life mocking neural nets and saying they'd never do anything are now happy to call them AI and try and get some of the money."

So he spoke, and his words rang like the echo of a mountain bell — not merely a statement, but a lament for integrity, a lesson about the tides of recognition, and a warning for all who seek glory in the realm of knowledge.

In ancient times, the prophets of innovation walked unseen among the multitudes. Their fire burned before the world knew its warmth. The neural networks, like seeds cast into barren soil, were once despised — deemed foolish, unworthy, a dead branch of thought. Many mocked those who labored over them, saying, “These will never grow.” Yet Hinton and his disciples persisted, tending their fragile idea as a gardener tends a tree that no one believes will bear fruit. For decades they were ignored, ridiculed, left to toil in silence. But in the fullness of time, the seed took root — and the age of deep learning began.

Then, suddenly, those who had mocked came forth clothed in new garments. They spoke the language of neural nets, claimed its fruits, and called it Artificial Intelligence. The world applauded them, unaware that the soil had been watered by the quiet tears of the forgotten. Thus, Hinton’s words carry both the fire of triumph and the ache of betrayal. He speaks as one who has seen the truth — that when success blooms, many rush to stand in its shade.

Consider, O listener, the tale of Nikola Tesla, whose inventions lit the modern age. The mighty currents that now hum through every city are born from his mind. Yet in his time, he was dismissed, laughed at, impoverished. The glory went to others — to those who held the gold and the stage, not to those who carried the light. The pattern repeats: the world mocks what it does not yet understand, and when the miracle arrives, it crowns those who least deserve it.

Thus Hinton’s lament is not new; it is a song sung through the ages. When truth triumphs, it gathers many fathers. When it struggles, it stands alone. The wise must therefore learn not to seek honor in the market of applause, but to find strength in the purity of pursuit — in doing what is right and real, even when unseen.

There is, too, a deeper current beneath his words. It is the struggle between substance and appearance, between those who build and those who brand. The builders dwell in quiet laboratories, shaping thought into form. The others dwell in halls of power, shaping form into fame. When the fruit of innovation ripens, the powerful pluck it and proclaim it theirs. And so it has ever been — in kingdoms, in empires, in corporations alike. But Hinton’s tone is not bitterness alone; it is a call to awaken discernment.

For he warns the generations to come: do not be deceived by names or titles. When the world calls something AI, look deeper — see who built the foundations beneath. When the world praises progress, ask whose hands bled to make it real. Truth belongs not to those who claim it loudly, but to those who bear its weight in silence.

Let this teaching, then, be carried forward like a torch in the night: recognition is fleeting, but creation endures. Do not seek the coin of acclaim; seek the crown of understanding. The river of time will wash away the false and reveal the true builders beneath. If you are mocked, endure it with patience; if you are ignored, work still harder; if you are stolen from, let your work speak in centuries, not in headlines.

Take this, then, as the lesson of Hinton’s words:
Be steadfast like the mountain that holds its fire within.
Be humble like the craftsman who needs no applause.
And when the world rushes to rename your work, remember — the truth of creation belongs to those who kept faith when all others turned away.

Thus ends the teaching: labor in truth, not in fame.