In fact, Go was
designed to enable average programmers to be productive on large systems. You might call that "Blub"; I don't.
In fact, I claim that Paul Graham is completely wrong in that essay. To see why, think about Lisp and Haskell. When Lisp users look at Haskell, they know they're looking down, and they know why. "How can you get anything done in Haskell? It doesn't even have macros." But when Haskell users look at Lisp, they also know that they're looking down, and they know why. "How can you get anything done in Lisp? It doesn't even have a decent type system."
This situation - both languages certain that they're looking down when they look at each other - shows the problem in Graham's analysis. He assumes that languages can be placed on a one-dimensional axis labeled "power". They can't be, and the Lisp/Haskell issue proves it. That renders Graham's analysis invalid.
Instead, it might be better to think of languages as living in a multi-dimensional tree. Think of the program you're trying to write as having a vector in that multi-dimensional space. (Not so much the program itself, but what it makes it difficult to write.) Pick the language that extends the farthest in the direction of the vector defined by the program.
What Go did is recognize that "ability to get a large team of average programmers to maintain and extend a large codebase for decades" was one of the dimensions of the space. That makes it "Blub" by Graham's definition, but I don't think that's meaningful. Instead, if that's what your program needs, pick a language that does that.