We got something else
Most of us who were online in the mid-90s were wildly optimistic about what the internet was going to become.
We thought it would turn into this global enlightenment engine — where everyone suddenly had access to knowledge, where truth would beat propaganda, where gatekeepers would vanish and we’d all just… get smarter together.
That didn’t happen.
At least not at the scale we imagined.
What did happen is something quieter and, in a strange way, more powerful.
We accidentally created a distributed network of graduate-level seminars across the planet.
Not formal.
Not credentialed.
Not curated by universities or publishers or gatekeepers.
Just… people.
People reading obscure books.
People comparing notes.
People cross-checking claims.
People arguing about first-century Christianity, Roman law, astrophysics, Stoicism, ancient engineering, political theory, linguistics, you name it — in comment sections, Discord servers, long-form TikTok replies, Substacks, weird niche forums, DMs.
It isn’t loud.
It isn’t trending.
But it’s real.
At the height of the Roman Republic, about 2% of people were literate. Maybe 1% had anything resembling a broad education. That tiny fraction produced everything we still talk about today — law, philosophy, engineering, political theory.
Right now, we don’t have 2%.
We have something closer to 15–20% who are functionally literate, cross-disciplinary, and able to learn on their own. And maybe 1–2% who go deep — who read peer-reviewed papers, primary sources, serious history, theology, science.
That doesn’t sound like much… until you realize that’s millions of people.
Enough to sustain entire intellectual ecosystems.
Enough to keep knowledge alive even when institutions decay.
Enough to teach the next generation without asking permission.
We didn’t get the utopia where everyone became a philosopher.
We got something we didn’t expect:
A global underground of people who quietly refuse to be stupid.
No gatekeepers.
No central authority.
No single narrative.
Just people, everywhere, comparing notes.
And that might be even more powerful than what we dreamed about in 1996.
We didn’t fail.
We just overshot the scale.
We wanted 100%.
We got a critical mass.
And history shows that’s all you ever need.
Reflecting on the evolution of the internet since the mid-1990s, it's fascinating to realize how our early utopian dreams of a universal enlightenment machine shifted into something more subtle yet profoundly impactful. In my personal experience engaging with various online communities, I've found that learning no longer relies solely on formal education; instead, passionate individuals delve deeply into niche subjects, from ancient history to advanced science, nurturing collective knowledge in decentralized spaces. This organic network resembles a modern-day salon or a distributed seminar system where no single authority governs the discourse. For example, I participate in Discord groups and forums dedicated to topics like Stoicism and astrophysics where members share primary sources, peer-reviewed papers, and engage in vigorous debates. This collective cross-checking and note-sharing fosters a kind of grassroots scholarship that thrives independently of universities or traditional gatekeepers. Interestingly, this aligns with historical literacy patterns but at a vastly greater scale; while the Roman Republic had about 2% literate citizens contributing to civilization-defining ideas, today's digital age has expanded that critical mass significantly. Millions worldwide are functionally literate and capable of deep, multidisciplinary learning, supporting what could be described as an underground intellectual ecosystem. Despite not achieving a perfect utopia of universal wisdom, this gradual rather than instantaneous progress preserves and enriches knowledge across generations. It empowers self-directed learning journeys outside formal credentialing, challenging conventional narratives, and enabling diverse perspectives to flourish. Recognizing and participating in these decentralized knowledge pools has personally amplified my appreciation for the internet's true intellectual potential — a quiet revolution in how we acquire, validate, and propagate understanding in the modern world.
