The Fire of Prometheus, Oppenheimer’s Bomb, and the Power We Can’t Uncreate

In 1945, after the successful detonation of the first atomic bomb in the New Mexico desert, J. Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the bomb, quoted a chilling line from the Bhagavad Gita: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” His words reflected the immense power that had just been unleashed—an irreversible leap in humanity's capacity for destruction.

Oppenheimer’s personal conflict, as seen in the film Oppenheimer and explored in Kai Bird’s book "American Prometheus", draws a striking parallel to the myth of Prometheus. Like Prometheus giving fire to humanity, Oppenheimer had handed the world a tool that could change its future forever—a tool that, much like fire, could both build and destroy. Yet, what haunted Oppenheimer was not just the bomb itself, but what it symbolised: a force that once unleashed, could never be undone.

As we explore the consequences of AI development, the story of Oppenheimer and his bomb offers a stark reminder of the moral and ethical dilemmas that arise when humanity invents something it cannot fully control. Are we, like Oppenheimer, creating something that will lead to both unimaginable progress and potential destruction? And if so, what does this mean for us, the creators, and for those who will inherit this power?

Prometheus’s Fire and Oppenheimer’s Bomb: The Unstoppable Force

Prometheus gave humans fire—a gift that symbolised knowledge, innovation, and progress. But it also represented the potential for destruction. With fire came the ability to forge tools and build civilisations, but also the capacity to wage war, burn forests, and destroy.

Oppenheimer’s atomic bomb was the modern equivalent of Prometheus’s fire, but on a much larger and more immediate scale. The creation of nuclear weapons didn’t just represent technological advancement; it also introduced a profound ethical dilemma. Could such power ever be wielded responsibly, or was its very existence an existential threat to humanity?

The dilemma became even more complicated with the introduction of the fusion bomb, or the hydrogen bomb—the super bomb. After developing the atomic bomb, Oppenheimer and his colleagues were faced with the prospect of developing an even more destructive weapon. The fusion bomb would be exponentially more powerful than the fission bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And here is where the ethical weight truly settled. The question was no longer can we build it, but rather should we.

In the film Oppenheimer, Albert Einstein warns Oppenheimer with the line, “Just remember, it won’t be for you... it will be for them.” The “them” refers to the future generations who would live under the shadow of this terrible power. Oppenheimer, much like Prometheus, had created something that would have consequences far beyond his own lifetime. The fire had been given, and now it was no longer in the creator’s hands.

The Dilemma of Creation: Fire, Bombs, and AI

As we develop artificial intelligence, we face a similar dilemma. We are on the verge of giving machines the modern equivalent of fire, a power that will shape the future in ways we cannot fully predict. Much like Oppenheimer, AI developers may one day look back and realise they’ve become creators of something that can no longer be controlled—an innovation that will exist for “them”, future generations, who will have to live with the consequences.

AI offers immense potential for good. It could revolutionise healthcare, solve climate change, and eliminate tedious labour. But it also carries risks, from mass unemployment to autonomous weapons. The comparison to Oppenheimer’s bomb is not simply about the scale of destruction, but about the moral burden of creating something with world-changing consequences.

In the same way that Oppenheimer could not undo the creation of the atomic bomb, we may soon reach a point where AI becomes self-sustaining—learning, evolving, and making decisions beyond human control. Oppenheimer’s bomb was a physical object that could be dropped or withheld, but AI is an intellectual force, one that spreads invisibly through code, algorithms, and data. Once we create it, can we ever truly take it back?

Prometheus, Oppenheimer, and the Cost of Knowledge

The story of Prometheus and the story of Oppenheimer converge in one crucial aspect: both men (or in the case of Prometheus, titans) were punished for giving humanity a powerful, dangerous tool. Prometheus was eternally bound and tormented by Zeus, while Oppenheimer lived out his days haunted by the bomb’s destructive potential and his role in bringing it into the world.

Knowledge—whether in the form of fire, nuclear weapons, or AI—is irrevocable. Once we possess it, we can’t simply return it. Kai Bird’s "American Prometheus" captures this dilemma beautifully, exploring how Oppenheimer’s life was defined by the tension between scientific discovery and its ethical implications. The subtitle of the book itself is telling: Oppenheimer was the American Prometheus, a modern-day version of the ancient myth, facing the consequences of defying the gods of moral restraint and responsibility.

In both cases, the creation of something so powerful forces a deep ethical reckoning. Oppenheimer, after seeing the bomb’s destructive capacity, spoke against building the super bomb, but by then, the train was already in motion. Much like Prometheus’s fire, once the gift of nuclear technology had been handed to humanity, it could not be taken back.

What Would Oppenheimer Say About AI?

If Oppenheimer were alive today, what might he say about the development of artificial intelligence? He understood better than most the burden of creating something with the power to change the world forever. His warnings about nuclear weapons can be extended to the development of AI: just because we can create it, does that mean we should?

Oppenheimer might see in AI the same potential for both creation and destruction that he saw in nuclear weapons. But there’s a crucial difference. The bomb was ultimately wielded by governments—by human hands making conscious, intentional decisions. AI, on the other hand, has the potential to self-govern, to learn and evolve in ways that even its creators may not fully understand. The autonomy of AI adds another layer to this ethical dilemma. Oppenheimer’s bomb had a button; AI may have no such off-switch.

The question then becomes: Who will control this new fire? In the case of Oppenheimer’s bomb, the power rested with world leaders. But with AI, the power is more diffuse, spread across companies, governments, and increasingly, the machines themselves. Who will bear the moral burden when AI makes decisions that humans cannot control or fully understand?

The Promethean Lesson for AI Creators

The tale of Prometheus and the story of Oppenheimer both offer profound lessons for creators of new technologies. The power of creation is also the power of destruction. The knowledge we unlock, once given, cannot be undone. Like fire and nuclear energy, AI offers immense potential, but it also comes with existential risks.

We may soon find ourselves at a crossroads similar to Oppenheimer’s dilemma with the super bomb—a moment where the question isn’t whether we can build something more powerful, but whether we should. Are we prepared to accept the consequences of creating AI systems that may operate beyond our control?

The true weight of this decision will not be for us—it will be for those who come after us, as Albert Einstein warned Oppenheimer. The fire we are creating now will burn brightest in the future, when those who inherit it will have to grapple with its consequences. The question remains: Are we, like Oppenheimer, becoming the destroyers of worlds?