When Eric Schmidt stepped up to the podium at the University of Arizona’s commencement ceremony, he likely expected the warm reception that typically greets a tech titan of his stature. What he got instead was something far more memorable: a chorus of boos from the graduating class every time he uttered the words “artificial intelligence.”
The former Google CEO had arrived with a clear message for the class of 2025, framing AI as the defining opportunity of their generation. “Whatever path you choose, AI will become part of how work is done,” he told the crowd, pausing as jeers rippled through the arena.
He pressed on, describing a future where anyone with an internet connection could access a personal tutor in any language, assemble teams of digital agents to accomplish tasks previously out of reach, and gain exposure to knowledge that would have been unimaginable just a decade ago.
But the graduates were not buying it, at least not without protest.
Each time Schmidt pivoted back to the technology, the boos returned, a rolling wave of dissatisfaction from young people who have grown up saturated with AI promises and are now stepping into a job market reshaped, and in many cases narrowed, by the very tools he was championing.
“We have only seen maybe 1% of what is to come,” Schmidt told them, triggering yet another round of groans. He acknowledged the skepticism in the room, urging the crowd: “If you’d let me make this point, please.”
Schmidt attempted to reframe the moment around human agency rather than technological inevitability. “You bring the judgment. You bring the conscience. You bring the perspective,” he said, asking graduates to see themselves not as passengers on a runaway train, but as architects of what comes next.
He drew on an analogy that has become something of a Silicon Valley proverb: “When someone offers you a seat on the rocket ship, you do not ask which seat. You just get on. The rocket ship is here.”
He also touched on immigration and the diversity of perspectives that have historically driven American progress. “Choose a diversity of perspectives, including the perspective of the immigrant, who has so often been the person who came to this country and made it better,” he said.
His closing remarks took a more philosophical turn, as he reflected on what he believes separates lasting success from short-term achievement. “Happiness, I have come to believe, is not the same as joy. Happiness is derived from meaning. Meaning in your work. Meaning in your relationships,” he said, before wrapping up to a mixed reception.
The scene in Tucson was not an isolated expression of discontent. Across industries, graduation stages, and boardrooms, a growing unease with AI’s rapid expansion is building among precisely the demographic that technology executives are counting on to embrace it. These are people old enough to understand what automation means for entry-level opportunity and young enough to spend decades living with its consequences.
That tension is playing out on the world stage as well. Pope Leo XIV is preparing to sign what may become his first major teaching document, reportedly titled “Magnifica Humanitas,” a sweeping statement on AI’s moral implications timed to coincide with the anniversary of an 1891 encyclical that addressed the upheavals of the industrial revolution.
The parallel is intentional. Andrew Chesnut, chair of Catholic studies at Virginia Commonwealth University, described the Pope’s framing this way: “This is going to be one of the fundamental pillars of his papacy,” noting that Leo XIV views automation as already causing entry-level jobs to “evaporate.”
