Aaron Horwath, director of AI operations at a creative technology company, observed a revealing scene on a train. A young professional, in a suit and dirty white sneakers, was on the phone talking about EBITDA and expansion margins. But upon disembarking, he took out knitting needles and a ball of pink yarn from his bag: he was making a winter hat for his niece. He explained that he wanted ‘to make something.’
This scene, reported by Horwath in an article for noemamag.com, illustrates a growing trend among knowledge workers. In cafes and bars, professionals share dreams of ‘disappearing,’ ‘living on a farm,’ or ‘getting off the grid.’ These are not daydreams, but visions of escape laden with existential anguish, a fundamental doubt about work and career.
The feeling that knowledge work is, perhaps, useless, is spreading. The disillusionment is contagious: one speaks, others agree, and conversations inevitably lead to questions like: ‘What are we doing?’ and ‘What is the meaning of all this?’
What differentiates this moment from previous crises is the nature of the anguish. Yes, AI threatens jobs, but knowledge workers have already faced recessions, outsourcing, and automation. The difference is that the questions now are existential, not just economic. Even well-paid senior executives, the most protected from turbulence, are uncertain about the future of their careers.
Some might say: ‘serves them right.’ After all, in the 2010s, knowledge workers told everyone to learn to code. During the pandemic, they stayed home while others risked their health. Now, they build the AI that threatens jobs. But the question remains: what happens when an entire class of workers loses faith in their careers?
In 2019, Derek Thompson, in The Atlantic, described ‘American workism’: the pursuit of fulfillment, community, and meaning in work, something previous generations found in religion. Work became a kind of faith, where the most educated and well-paid feel most themselves in the office.
Traditionally, there were vocations: challenging careers with social impact, like teachers, nurses, and firefighters. But today’s youth prefer finance, consulting, and technology. These jobs are competitive, require long hours and heavy cognitive loads, but lack altruistic purpose.
David Graeber, in ‘Bullshit Jobs,’ cataloged jobs without significant function: presentations for projects that never see the light of day, debates about resources no one asked for, optimization of ads no one sees. ‘Resting and vesting’ and ‘promotion-oriented development’ are examples of how work can be empty.
Workism, then, serves to distract people from the void that a vocation would fill. It is the ‘opium of train passengers.’ But, like religion, it depends on faith over logic. And if something threatens that faith? AI could be exactly that: a shock that makes knowledge workers wake up from the spell of workism, without a viable financial alternative.
The question that remains is: what happens when an entire class of workers loses faith in their careers? The answer may be as transformative as AI itself.