Some people think technology has the answers.

The words of Kevin Mitnick, once feared as the world’s most notorious hacker and later revered as a master of cybersecurity, strike with sharpness and caution: “Some people think technology has the answers.” In this brief but potent phrase, he unveils the illusion that many hold — that technology, with all its glowing screens and endless code, can solve the deepest questions of human existence. It is a warning against false gods, against mistaking tools for truth, and against placing in circuits and systems the kind of faith that should be reserved for wisdom, judgment, and conscience.

For indeed, technology is powerful. It can store the knowledge of the ancients, carry voices across oceans, and reveal the mysteries of the stars. Yet it is not the source of wisdom itself; it is but a vessel. To think that technology has the answers is to believe that the hammer alone builds the house, forgetting the vision of the builder and the labor of his hands. The machine may perform, but it does not guide. The algorithm may calculate, but it does not choose. The answers to the deepest riddles lie not in the machine, but in the mind and spirit of those who wield it.

History offers us many examples of this truth. During the Cold War, mankind placed its faith in technology to build weapons of unthinkable power. Satellites soared, missiles were sharpened, and nuclear fire was stored beneath the earth. And yet, for all their brilliance, these machines could not answer the question of peace. It was not technology that stayed destruction, but the human choice of leaders, diplomats, and ordinary people who desired life over annihilation. Here we see Mitnick’s wisdom: machines may hold power, but they do not hold the answers that matter most.

Even Mitnick’s own life illustrates this lesson. He was not merely a master of machines, but of human behavior. He revealed that the greatest vulnerabilities in systems were not the computers themselves, but the people who operated them. He showed that technology is only as secure, only as ethical, only as wise as the hands that shape it. By breaking into systems not through force of code alone but through the art of deception, he proved that human error — not the computer — is the true battleground. Thus, technology without wisdom is like a fortress with open gates.

The danger of believing that technology has the answers is that it lulls us into passivity. If we think machines will fix the world, we will cease to act with responsibility. We will forget that compassion, justice, and discernment cannot be programmed into silicon, but must be cultivated within the human heart. To look to technology as savior is to surrender our role as moral agents, creators, and guardians of our destiny.

The true path is balance. Use technology as a servant, never as a master. Let it assist in medicine, in communication, in discovery, but never let it replace the higher callings of conscience, wisdom, and humanity. Ask of it not for ultimate answers, but for useful tools, and remember that the greatest answers arise from reflection, from dialogue, and from the enduring truths of the human soul.

Thus, O seekers of tomorrow, remember the caution of Kevin Mitnick. Do not place blind faith in the machine. Let technology be the chisel, but you must be the sculptor. Let it be the lantern, but you must choose the path. For some may think that technology has the answers — but the wise know that the answers live not in the tool, but in the timeless spirit of the one who wields it.