Google made a commercial where Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson use Google Workspace to draft the Declaration of Independence.
The response was immediate—cringey, anachronistic, the kind of corporate attempt at relevance that makes you want to check your phone and pretend you weren't watching. The Verge was right to mock it.
But the mockery missed the actual tell. Google didn't make this commercial for early adopters or AI evangelists or even the tech journalists who cover the company—it made it for the people who control enterprise software budgets at Fortune 500 companies.
These are executives in their fifties and sixties who still think of AI as something either revolutionary or dangerous, probably both. They are the exact people most likely to trust a symbol over the evidence. People who were taught in school that the founding fathers were the gold standard of American problem-solving. Who still believe it. That's who needs Benjamin Franklin's approval—not because Franklin knew anything about productivity software. Because he represents permission from the past.
Institutional gravitas. The weight of tradition used as a battering ram against doubt. If AI adoption was genuinely won, Google wouldn't need historical cosplay—it would show results, revenue, market share that speaks for itself. Instead, the company reached for mythology because there's still a legitimacy gap among the people with actual money to spend.
Watch for this pattern elsewhere. When a technology deploys historical authority to overcome skepticism rather than demonstrate capability, it's telling you something true about who hasn't been convinced yet. And why the persuasion strategy changed.