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Es muss ein Mensch an der Maschine sein
I remembered John Crowley agreeing with H.G. Wells that the futurism of Metropolis (1927) is no such thing:
Wells notes—it's hard to miss and I thought it was the silliest thing in the movie when I first saw it—that the workers are slaves to machines, like the poor guy who actually has to manually control a clock that somehow controls the works. Did Lang not understand that the machines are designed to replace human drudgery, because machines are so much better at it? The social dislocations caused by that replacement are real, but no modern industrial society can be built on bare-faced slavery.
Leaving aside the fact that, actually, I think the U.S. is doing its best right now to disprove both Wells and Crowley and bear out Lang, I disagree completely that the image of the worker crucified on the clock is silly. Of course it's not literally how industrialization works, but as a metaphor it cuts to the bone. If anything, it's sharper in these days of the so-called gig economy. Got five minutes free? Great, that's another job you could be picking up. Already working nine to five? Relax, here's a service that never sleeps. Just chip in at your leisure, except the work won't pay so well that leisure is exactly an option. Everything that makes space in your life, makes space for more work. You're flexible and independent. You're always on the clock. Keep those hands moving. You've got the time.
Wells notes—it's hard to miss and I thought it was the silliest thing in the movie when I first saw it—that the workers are slaves to machines, like the poor guy who actually has to manually control a clock that somehow controls the works. Did Lang not understand that the machines are designed to replace human drudgery, because machines are so much better at it? The social dislocations caused by that replacement are real, but no modern industrial society can be built on bare-faced slavery.
Leaving aside the fact that, actually, I think the U.S. is doing its best right now to disprove both Wells and Crowley and bear out Lang, I disagree completely that the image of the worker crucified on the clock is silly. Of course it's not literally how industrialization works, but as a metaphor it cuts to the bone. If anything, it's sharper in these days of the so-called gig economy. Got five minutes free? Great, that's another job you could be picking up. Already working nine to five? Relax, here's a service that never sleeps. Just chip in at your leisure, except the work won't pay so well that leisure is exactly an option. Everything that makes space in your life, makes space for more work. You're flexible and independent. You're always on the clock. Keep those hands moving. You've got the time.
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I don't disagree.
(I do like your icon.)
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Don't forget prison labor.
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I don't like the gig economy. It's why we have had unions. I'd like to have unions again. Looking at you, Amazon. Among others.
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AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA.
That is someone who has never done data entry on a computer from 8 to 5 with two fifteen-minute breaks and a half-hour lunch. And that is light machine/person interface.
no modern industrial society can be built on bare-faced slavery
This person also knows nothing of, say, Victorian industrial practices, pre-unionization. Also child labour in US factories decades after that.
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I grew up on a Selectric, original flavor. I also grew up on a toaster Mac and some computers my father built from scratch, because I had such trouble writing by hand that I was taught ten-fingered typing when I was eight, but when I wanted to type at my grandparents' house, I had the run of the Selectric. It was a kind of industrial blue with black keys. I still miss the weight and resistance of it, although I'm sure I would feel much less nostalgic if it had been attached to a job.
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The one thing I don't miss is how I was an insomniac and my bedroom was right over a neighbours' bedroom and so my parents forbade me to type at night for years. Doesn't matter with a computer.
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I can sympathize with both the typist and the insomniac in this scenario. I remember the hum of the Selectric and the clacking of its keys. I remember the bass coming down through the ceiling earlier this evening as the upstairs neighbors listened to something that must have been music.
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That is scary.
I wrote a haiku about Henry Ford once.
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I am feeling extremely bitter about work right now, both personally and culturally. We need better ways.
(I want so many people out of power. That would be work, too, but at least of a different kind.)