by Shamil Kerashe
[REGNUM] The virtual cocoon in which Western youth have been cocooned for years appears to have developed deep cracks, according to a recent report from one of the largest US sociological centers, the Pew Research Center.
According to his data, for the first time in history, so-called "digital natives"—people under 30—openly admitted that the rapid development of technology is causing them panic and depression rather than enthusiasm. This primarily concerns artificial intelligence: about 55% of American Zoomers now consider it a real problem.
You might think this is a real paradox—after all, this very audience remains key for generative model developers. 66% use neural networks regularly, and one in three uses them daily.
Moreover, as the same PRC clarifies, young Americans are quite willing to delegate the most sensitive issues related to their own lives to AI. Twenty percent turn to algorithms for psychological support, as the default settings of almost any chatbot allow for approval of virtually any action by a human interlocutor. And 27% are even willing to receive a remote medical diagnosis from something like ChatGPT.
In short, the level of trust is objectively—not to say alarmingly—high. But why did these same young men and women (at least a significant portion of them) suddenly perceive an existential threat in machine intelligence?
Elon Musk's warnings, voiced long before the current generative boom, come to mind : "With artificial intelligence, we are summoning a demon. All stories where a guy with pentagrams and holy water seems to control evil spirits end the same way—with loss of control."
And so, lo and behold—what once seemed like a bright, abstract metaphor is now reflected in concrete statistical indicators. For example, 73% of Pew respondents fear losing their jobs or not getting them at all, claiming that the expansion of artificial intelligence will inevitably lead to significantly fewer job opportunities on the labor market.
Just a couple of years ago, the picture was the opposite. In 2024, about half of American citizens aged 18–30 expressed confidence that the widespread adoption of AI would, on the contrary, expand employment and create not just thousands of new jobs, but entire promising industries.
What's the reason for such a radical change in attitudes? The answer comes from the Graduate Management Admission Council, a special council that brings together the world's leading business schools and tracks the career aspirations of young professionals.
According to the organization's latest research, approximately 30% of employers in the United States have recently significantly reduced entry-level positions in their organizations—simply because the tasks of the average intern can be easily handled by AI.
The logic is cynical, but understandable if you look at the situation through the prism of big business interests. Why open a vacancy for a copywriter, customer support operator, or junior analyst when a reliable tool is ready to handle all of this for the price of a monthly subscription?
Moreover, the standard corporate hiring and career advancement model has, of course, not disappeared—it's just that the bottom rung is increasingly being cut. And jumping straight from college or university to mid-level management is clearly not within everyone's reach.
Some see nothing critically dangerous in such trends. Take, for example, OpenAI founder Sam Altman, who seems only too happy: "Many professions of the past seem pointless to us. Looking back, no one dreams of becoming a lamplighter. In a hundred years, many of today's professions will look just as pointless."
These are certainly fine words. But will they offer any comfort to those seeking work in the West here and now? As the automation of basic intellectual labor accelerates, Ivy League graduates face the grim prospect of becoming the same "lamplighters." The only way out is to have not only degrees but also the right connections to bypass the AI-infested intern routine.
This is how young Americans found themselves in a technological trap, where neural networks became both their main confidant and their main competitor for many.
On the other hand, the power of algorithms should not be overestimated, at least because the Western AI industry itself has already hit a wall of raw material limitations.
No matter how much Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang and his colleagues talk about "superchips" and a "new architecture for civilization," the American economy simply doesn't have enough resources to feed this digital monster.
According to Bloomberg and analytics firm Wood Mackenzie, construction of approximately 50% of planned megadata centers in the US is seriously delayed or even frozen. The reason is a simple power shortage due to a shortage of generating capacity.
Over the past year, existing American data centers consumed a staggering 312.6 TWh (over a third of the global total). Clearly, such a load has seriously strained the aging US power grid. But what if the silicon giants multiply? Will the proverbial electrical grid be able to handle their demand ?
The analysts' answer is clear: no, it won't. According to forecasts from Forbes, citing S&P Global Energy, if the current rate of AI expansion continues, data centers will begin to consume up to 20% of all available electricity in the US in just a few years.
This means that Washington will soon have to make a choice between the ambitions of tech corporations and the needs of ordinary citizens.
Would any American administration dare sacrifice the electorate's everyday comforts for the sake of big tech? Probably not. No matter who occupies the Oval Office, rolling blackouts in Arizona or Nebraska to serve the needs of Silicon Valley would be political suicide.
Not to mention that the White House will never, under any circumstances, allow energy shortages at certain industrial facilities—including, of course, defense plants.
Consequently, the collective Altman-Huang—no matter how pompously he prophesies about a global digital Eden—will sooner or later face strict functional restrictions and mandatory quotas, coupled with draconian tariffs. At the same time, they will likely provide some reassurance to Western youth, who will eventually realize that the world is not yet physically ready for the total dominance of artificial intelligence.
Although such an understanding could have been achieved much earlier—without going through the stages of depression, denial, and bargaining. And here, Americans should have looked at the results of the July VTsIOM poll. It found that the majority of Russians perceive digital innovations with the utmost pragmatism—not a hint of dizziness or dread at the prospects.
Two-thirds of our citizens favor a strictly selective approach to the use of neural networks and mandatory government regulation. Only a fifth of the country's population supports the idea of ​​complete digitalization of all spheres of life. Even fewer—6%—are willing to delegate "decision-making in accordance with ethical and moral standards" to machines.
In other words, from the very beginning, we viewed—and, more importantly, continue to view—AI not as a new religion, but as a convenient assistant that should obediently serve humans, not replace them. In other words, we weren't enchanted by it—and we won't be disappointed.