Executive summary: Corporate rhetoric about innovation and leadership often masks the unpalatable reality of exploitation and extraction. Microsoft’s new AI manifesto, with its careful political positioning and woefully selective historical narrative, exemplifies this troubling pattern – trading safety for market advantage that has historical precedents with catastrophic outcomes.

When the Hindenburg burst into flames in 1937, it marked another era built on hubris – a belief that technological advancement could outrun safety concerns. Microsoft’s recent manifesto on AI leadership eerily echoes this same dangerous confidence, presenting a sanitized version of both American technological history and their own corporate record.

Brad Smith’s Failure at History

The company’s vision statement posted under Brad Smith’s name reads like a saccharin a-historical fiction, painting a rosy picture of American technological development that far too conveniently forgets death and destruction of weakly regulated barons. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire’s 146 victims, the horrific conditions exposed in “The Jungle,” and the long struggle for basic worker protections weren’t exceptions. And selective amnesia by those who profit from ignoring the past isn’t accidental – it’s a strategic attempt to hide the human costs of rapid technological deployment that lacked the most basic safeguards.

Just as the disastrously mis-managed private American railroads of the 19th century built empires on fraud (government handouts while preaching free-market rhetoric) that left taxpayers holding the fallout with no trains in sight, Microsoft now positions itself as a champion of private sector innovation while seeking public funding and protection. Their carefully crafted narrative about “American AI leadership” deliberately obscures how the technology sector actually achieved its “success” – through massive public investment, particularly in military applications for “intelligence” like the billion-dollar-per-year IGLOO WHITE program during the Vietnam War.

Real History, Real Microsoft Patterns

The corporate-driven PR of historical revisionism becomes even more troubling when we examine Microsoft’s awful and immoral business track record. The company that now promises to be a responsible steward of AI technology has consistently prioritized corporate profits over human welfare. Bill Gates’ lack of any concern at all for “virus” risks in his takeover of the personal computer world, delivering billions of disasters and causing world-wide outages, is somehow supposed to be forgotten because he took the money and announced he cares about malaria now? While ignoring basic consumer safety, Microsoft also pioneered a “permatemp” system in the 1990s for a two-tier workforce where thousands of “temporary” workers had to do the work of full-time employees yet without benefits or job security. Even after paying a piddling $97 million to settle lawsuits, they arrogantly shifted to more sophisticated forms of worker exploitation through contracting firms.

As technology evolved, so did Microsoft’s methods of avoiding responsibility. Content moderators exposed to traumatic material, game testers working in precarious conditions, and data center workers denied basic benefits – all while the company’s profits soared unethically. Now, in the AI era, they’ve taken an even more ominous turn by literally dismantling ethical AI oversight teams (because they raised objections) precisely when such oversight is most crucial.

New Avenues for Exploitation

The parallels to past technological disasters are stark. Just as the Grover Shoe Factory’s boiler explosion revealed the costs of prioritizing production over safety, Microsoft’s aggressive push into AI while eliminating ethical oversight should raise alarming questions. This is like removing the brakes on a car when you install a far more powerful engine. Their new AI manifesto, filled with flattery for coming White House occupants using veiled requests for deregulation, reads less like a vision for responsible innovation and more like a corporate attempt to avoid accountability… for when they inevitably burn up their balloon.

Consider the track record:

• Pioneered abusive labor practices in tech
• Consistently fought against worker organizing efforts
• Used contractor firms to obscure poor working conditions
• Fired ethical AI researchers as they accelerate AI

Smith’s manifesto, with carefully crafted appeals to American technological leadership and warnings about Chinese competition, follows this as a familiar pattern. It’s the same strategy railroad companies used to secure land grants, that oil companies used to bypass laws, that steel companies used to avoid safety regulations, and that modern tech giants use to maintain their monopolies.

Tea Pot Dome May Come Again

For anyone considering entrusting their future to Microsoft’s AI vision, the message from history is clear: this is a company that has repeatedly chosen corporate convenience over human welfare. Their elimination of ethical oversight while rapidly deploying AI technology isn’t just a little concerning – it’s intentionally dangerous. Like boarding a hydrogen-filled zeppelin, the risks aren’t immediately visible but are nonetheless catastrophic.

The manifesto’s emphasis on “private sector leadership” and deregulation, combined with their historic exploitative practice of using contractor firms to avoid responsibility, suggests their AI future will repeat the worst patterns of industrial history. Their calls for “pragmatic” export controls and warnings about Chinese competition are less about national security and more about seeking unjust tariffs (e.g. Facebook’s campaign to ban competitor TikTok) and securing corporate benefits while avoiding oversight.

As we stand at the threshold of the AI era, Microsoft’s manifesto should be read not as a vision statement but as them cooking and eating the AI canary in broad daylight. Their selective reading of history, combined with their own troubling track record, suggests we’re witnessing the trumpeted call for a new chapter in corporate exploitation – one where AI technology serves as both the vehicle and the excuse for avoiding responsibility.

Microsoft is sacrificing something (ethical oversight, worker protections) for perceived strategic advantage, just as historical robber barons sacrificed safety and worker welfare for profit.

The question isn’t whether Microsoft can lead in AI development by pouring billions into their race to monopolize it and spit out even their own workers as a lesser caste – it’s whether we can afford to repeat the mistakes of the past by allowing companies to prioritize speed and profit over human welfare and safety. History’s judgment of such choices has always been harsh, and in the AI era, the stakes are even higher.

One of the most remarkable aspects of Admiral Nelson’s extraordinary successes against Napoleon’s French Navy (which one might consider the naval “hegemonic power” of the late 18th century) lies in his repeated employment of similar tactical approaches with devastating effectiveness. Nelson’s genius was not primarily in surprising his adversaries with novel strategies, but rather in repeatedly demonstrating tactical principles that the French command structure proved incapable of assimilating into their operational doctrine.

If that sounds like how the Russians have been sorely failing in their invasion of Ukraine, you’re in the right ballpark.

This persistent French vulnerability as aggressors stemmed significantly from a critical institutional deficiency in Napoleon’s military leadership paradigm. The Emperor’s systematic removal of competent officers in favor of those whose primary qualification was demonstrable personal loyalty created a command environment ill-equipped for adaptive response. This politicization of naval leadership rendered French fleets particularly susceptible to Nelson’s characteristic strategic manoeuvres.

The tragedy for the French Navy was not that they faced an incomprehensible tactical genius, but rather that their institutional architecture precluded learning from repeated encounters with the same strategic principles. Nelson’s victories at the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar thus represent not merely brilliant individual engagements, but a devastating commentary on the brittleness of military hierarchies that prioritize political reliability over professional competence.

A particularly salient illustration of Napoleonic naval deficiencies can be observed in both the Battle of the Nile and Trafalgar, where the French (and subsequently Spanish) forces deployed exceptionally large vessels at their formation’s center. These imposing ships, while impressive in scale, unwittingly became primary targets for Nelson’s signature tactical approach: the application of concentrated, localized firepower.

The operational disadvantage was further compounded by these oversized vessels’ markedly reduced maneuverability relative to their British counterparts. Nelson’s celebrated ‘breaking the line’ strategy thus gained additional efficacy against what were effectively static targets.

One might conceptualize the tactical mathematics thus: when Nelson’s 14 vessels approached a linear formation of 14 enemy ships of substantially greater tonnage, he would bisect their line and effectively deploy his 14 more agile and seasoned vessels (with a superior firing rate of 3:2) against merely half the enemy force. This fundamental arithmetic of targeted engagement is remarkably straightforward, which explains how Nelson’s captains could operate with such remarkable autonomy during combat operations.

The Battle of the Nile presents a particularly striking case study, where the French command made the extraordinary tactical error of manning only the seaward side of their vessels, operating under the flawed assumption that the shoreline provided adequate protection to leeward. This miscalculation rendered Nelson’s bifurcated assault devastatingly effective, as British ships could engage unmanned broadsides with impunity.

Again, it has to be said that these examples illuminate not merely Nelson’s tactical brilliance, but more significantly, the institutional inability of the French naval command structure to adapt to repeated demonstrations of superior principles across multiple engagements.

Perhaps most notable was the collapse of coordination and communication within the French fleets. Once their line was broken and subjected to concentrated fire, Nelson maintained a relentless, unified theory of localized assault, while the French struggled to devise any effective counter-strategy other than to fade away. Perhaps ironically, Napoleon used the same tactics on land against the Italians and Austrians yet lacked any competence or translation to sea.

The absolute defeat of French naval forces in both the Nile and Trafalgar was lopsided, swift, and devastating to the soft underbelly of Napoleon.

It’s a lesson that resonates today, where even the largest AI platforms, under attack by aggressive and nimble adversaries—like with Napoleon’s easily routed naval juggernauts—are seemingly setup and operated to invite catastrophic breaches.

Big Tech in a race to create the biggest AI platforms possible and stuff their leadership with adherents to a CEO recalls the fate of the gargantuan L’Orient in 1798, blown apart off the coast of Egypt, sinking France’s entire “unsinkable” campaign fortune.

And lest anyone forget, Nelson’s swift lopsided victories at both the Nile and Trafalgar were supported by an exceptional depth of talent.

Vice-Admiral Cuthbert Collingwood, a name almost nobody remembers yet who earned THREE Naval gold medals, perhaps deserves even more credit for applying the aggressive line-breaking localized fire tactics than Nelson himself at Trafalgar.

Are you now saying Collingwho? Here are some fun history facts about the underappreciated “Salt Junk and Sixpenny” (cheap food and booze) Collingwood who rose quickly to become one of the most decorated Admirals in history: Denied his first gold medal on a technicality, he protested and was awarded it retroactively after earning his second. Though excluded from a role in the Nile rout, he led the charge at Trafalgar and is credited with preserving the entire British fleet during both the battle and a subsequent horrific storm. Allegedly, even after suffering the loss of their fleet, the Spanish respected his executive actions so much that his leadership helped them overthrow the French. While Nelson inspired his fleet with strategic brilliance and daring tactics, Collingwood was a hard-core system administrator who excelled in operations—Nelson wisely deployed his vice-admiral as a man capable of fighting harder and better than any fleet three times his size.

Collingwood was a tough, resourceful individual who rose from humble, rough conditions to achieve the highest awards and greatness despite his unprivileged background. He was much more modest than an attention-seeking Nelson, preferring to focus on smooth operations and combat discipline rather than seeking fame or fortunes. He was even criticized for not being more aggressive about hunting foreign treasure and bounty in combat. His steady, reliable command did not seek the spotlight given he felt success was best measured as victory in combat—hence why his amazing historic contributions, though significant, are often unknown.

So who will historians look back upon and discuss as the Collingwood of our day, the quiet hero who routed the overly confident Napoleon(s) of Big Tech AI?