Ego plays a complicated role in periods of technological change. It sharpens skill during stable eras, but it often hinders adaptation during inflection points.

Two recent essays on AI and software engineering illustrate this tension clearly.

Emir Ribic’s “From Craftsmen to Operators” https://dev.ribic.ba/the-rapid-evolution-of-software-engineer-s-role

Ribic frames the rise of AI-assisted development as a loss of craft. He mourns the disappearance of deep, line-by-line problem solving and the sense of authorship that came with it. Engineers, in his telling, are becoming operators—prompting, reviewing, and assembling—rather than builders. The piece captures something real: pride in difficulty, satisfaction in mastery, and the joy of personally solving hard problems.

But that pride is also where ego enters. What’s being lost isn’t just a way of working—it’s a form of status. Manual coding was scarce, hard-won, and socially rewarded. When AI erodes that scarcity, it threatens identity as much as technique. The article largely dwells on that loss, while giving little attention to the exhilaration many engineers feel when modern tools collapse days of work into minutes.

P.C. Maffey’s “AInxiety” https://pcmaffey.com/ainxiety-1/

Maffey takes a more balanced view. He openly acknowledges discomfort, ethical concerns, and the risk of over-reliance on AI, but he also accepts the productivity gains and uses AI extensively in his work. Rather than framing the shift as a fall from craft, he reframes the role: less time spent on syntax, more on design, planning, judgment, and responsibility. Where Ribic sees loss, Maffey sees trade-offs.

Taken together, the contrast suggests a broader pattern we’ve seen before.

During the Industrial Revolution, skilled artisans resisted mechanization not only because of economic threat, but because identity and status were tied to difficulty and exclusivity. The same thing happened when typewriters gave way to personal computers in offices—typing lost its prestige once everyone could do it. In each case, ego slowed adaptation, but also reflected a real commitment to excellence that had previously raised standards.

That leads to a fair synthesis:

Ego hones skill in stable environments. It motivates mastery, pride, and depth. But during technological inflection points, the same ego can become friction—blinding people to leverage, speed, and new forms of craftsmanship.

Progress doesn’t eliminate craft; it relocates it. The challenge isn’t to abandon pride in skill, but to recognize when clinging to old expressions of that skill prevents adaptation to more powerful tools.

The winners in these transitions aren’t ego-free. They’re ego-aware.