Keltner has been careful to document that awe is not uniformly positive. The two-component model specifies the conditions under which awe produces growth: perceived vastness paired with successful accommodation. When the vastness is too great, when existing mental structures are too rigid, or when the social and narrative environment does not support the cognitive work of accommodation, the encounter produces not awe but something else. Burke anticipated this in his analysis of the sublime's terror component. Kant noted that the dynamic sublime was pleasant only because the observer was safe. Modern neuroscience has specified the distinction: productive awe activates networks associated with cognitive openness; overwhelming awe activates threat-processing circuits. The AI transition is capable of producing both, and the difference is determined largely by conditions the technology discourse rarely addresses.
There is a parallel reading that begins from the political economy of who gets to experience productive versus overwhelming awe in the AI transition. The capacity for accommodation that Keltner identifies as crucial is not equally distributed—it correlates strongly with economic security, educational capital, and proximity to the centers where AI development occurs. The software engineer who loses her job to automation but has savings, networks, and cultural fluency with technology can afford the luxury of reconstructing meaning. The call center worker experiencing the same displacement has no such buffer. Her awe is overwhelming not because she lacks the right narrative framework, but because material conditions make accommodation a privilege she cannot access.
The distribution of awe responses thus maps onto existing inequalities and amplifies them. Those who own capital or possess rare expertise experience AI's vastness as an expansion of possibility—they have the resources to accommodate, to pivot, to find new significance. Those whose labor is commodified experience the same vastness as annihilation because accommodation requires time, money, and social position they do not possess. The master calligrapher who grieves while accommodating is likely tenured or independently wealthy; the production calligrapher simply loses her livelihood. When we speak of creating conditions for productive awe through narrative and meaning-making, we must ask: who has access to these conditions? The overwhelming awe of the displaced is not a failure of narrative but a predictable outcome of how technological change distributes its violence unevenly. The awe that overwhelms is often simply the awe of those overwhelmed by systems larger than narrative can remediate.
The factor most consistently associated with overwhelming awe is the perception of personal insignificance without compensating meaning. Productive awe makes the self small, but smallness is experienced within a framework that gives the small self dignity — the person is small relative to something beautiful, important, or meaningful. Overwhelming awe makes the self small and provides no compensating meaning: the vastness is indifferent, and smallness becomes worthlessness.
The AI transition can produce either response to the same stimulus. A builder discovering that AI can perform the tasks defining her identity for twenty years can experience this as productive awe — the landscape is vaster than she knew, her contribution has shifted to a higher level, her significance is enhanced rather than diminished. Or she can experience the same discovery as overwhelming awe — the machine does what she does faster and cheaper, her mastery is obsolete, her significance annihilated by a tool that does not know she exists.
The narrative framework determines which response occurs. A culture that narrates the AI transition solely in terms of efficiency and replacement systematically produces conditions for overwhelming awe. A culture that articulates what remains uniquely human and why it matters creates conditions for productive awe. The narrative is structural, not decorative.
A third possibility deserves specific attention — what the Keltner book calls awe-grief: the compound state of accommodation that succeeds cognitively while extracting emotional cost. The master calligrapher who understands the printing press, appreciates its power, articulates why it matters — and also mourns the specific beauty of hand-copied manuscripts that will never be produced again. Her awe is real. Her grief is real. Neither cancels the other. This may be the characteristic emotional signature of the AI transition for those who understand it most deeply.
Keltner has discussed the dark side of awe throughout his career, with the most systematic treatment in Chapter 6 of Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder. The 2017 paper by Gordon and colleagues in JPSP provided empirical support for the distinction between threat-based and beauty-based awe, demonstrating different physiological and behavioral consequences.
Not uniformly positive. The popular reception of awe research has tended to idealize awe; the science is more careful.
Qualitative, not quantitative. Overwhelming awe is not simply too much vastness; it is vastness without accommodation support.
Threat circuits vs openness circuits. Different neurological signatures distinguish the two forms.
Meaning-dependent. Compensating meaning transforms smallness into dignity; absent meaning, smallness becomes worthlessness.
Remediable by conditions. Pace management, narrative provision, social support, and awe titration shift the balance toward productive awe.
The right frame depends on which scale of analysis we're examining. At the individual psychological level, Edo's account is nearly complete (90%)—the distinction between productive and overwhelming awe does turn on accommodation capacity, and narrative frameworks genuinely shape individual responses. The neuroscience is clear: different circuits activate, different hormones release, different behavioral patterns emerge. A person with the right story, support, and pacing can transform potential terror into growth.
At the structural level, however, the contrarian view dominates (75%). The distribution of who experiences which form of awe is overdetermined by material conditions that narrative alone cannot overcome. The call center worker and the software engineer face the same AI capabilities, but their positions in the economic order—not their narrative frameworks—primarily determine whether they experience expansion or annihilation. The resources required for accommodation (time to retrain, capital to weather transition, social networks that open new doors) are unequally distributed along lines that predate any narrative about AI.
The synthesis requires holding both truths: narrative matters enormously for those who have the material basis to use it (where Edo is right), while recognizing that such material basis is itself unevenly distributed (where the contrarian is right). Perhaps the proper frame is one of nested determinations—structural position sets the range of possible responses, narrative shapes which response within that range actualizes, and individual psychological factors fine-tune the specific experience. This suggests that addressing overwhelming awe requires intervention at multiple levels simultaneously: yes, better narratives and meaning-making frameworks, but also material supports that expand who has access to accommodation. The awe response is both deeply personal and irreducibly political.